May I
A bit of big-for-me news: Today was my first day on the farm as a full-time farmer. Farmhand. Person who gets to look at sheep all day. On Thursday, after I clocked out from my last day at my former for realz job, I wrote the following to some friends:
“I’ve punched my last timecard. As of 4:09 pm today, I am officially a full-time farmer. This next chapter will be written in the language of the land: ancient mountains worn down into hard hills, the blush of broom sedge in snow, the soft hand of sheep’s wool, and the scent of elderflowers after it rains. This next chapter will be written with calloused hands and a calm heart. And with many, many thanks to the spirits.”
Those words echoed in my head all day today. They were true when I wrote them, as the brave words of the earnest and hopeful often are. And after cutting exactly 600 sections of wire for a fencing project today, my hands were most definitely calloused—but my heart was anything but calm. It beat in my chest soft and unsure like a baby bird. Yet also light, despite the weight of the task we’ve taken on. That surprised me. Although now as I contemplate this feeling, I think that must be the blessing of knowing that you are doing the right thing–even when you don’t know what you’re doing.
When you are certain of the direction, but uncertain of the path, the only way to go is forward. And if you never find the path, you at least had a very interesting walk, right?
This is the approach I took today. When it seemed to much, I held that baby bird up in my hands and showed it the view and said, This isn’t going anywhere. It has been here for a billion years without you. It will be here for a billion more without you. Be here now, and make it count. Work slowly, slowly. There is time to figure this all out. So the day went, with me figuring things out slowly, slowly; and slowly, slowly my heart began to calm, to take in the view, and to beat steady and true. And a little bit wilder than before.
Now that my days are governed by things other than punching in clocks, look for more about life on the farm and also about dyeing, as the dyepots are soon to be brought out of storage. That is all for now. You will soon have your fill of fence-building and compost-making and sheep-herding and tractor-repairing and garden-planting and yarn-dyeing. Ah, who are we kidding? There is never enough yarn dyeing.
I’ve been waiting years for this day. And now, here we are. Boots on, sleeves up. Woot!
Grackle & Sun 
Wishing you every good thing. It is OK to be uncertain and to find your way. Surely anyone who is paying attention is having this experience–at least some of the time?
Yes. You are right. I think that it’s easy to expect that making the right decision is supposed to feel a certain way—solid, fierce, passionate, etc. Being able to hold the certainty of the decision while feeling uncertain about the rest is the challenge. Thank you for the well wishes! Very much appreciated.
Congratulations! Lots of hard work ahead and also joy. All the best for your new journey.
Thank you!
The dawn of a new era.
Life is uncertain, even when you are punching the clock, but from this point on you will wake with joy in your heart!
All true!
love
The thrill of following your heart. What better guide is there? I have this quote over my desk at work to remind me: “Once you realize that the road is the goal and that you are always on the road, not to reach a goal, but to enjoy its beauty and its wisdom, life ceases to be a task and becomes natural and simple, in itself an ecstasy.” Enjoy!
― Nisargadatta Maharaj
Great quote! Thank you.
Many many congratulations and I can’t wait for the details!
And pictures.
Thank you!
Your post is radiating love, authenticity, enthusiasm – thank you so much for sharing! It is bliss when our dreams come true.
Thank you for the kind, kind words.
Missed this post back when somehow. Congrats! I hope you’re still as happy on your path?