My blog has a tag about farming and it isn’t totally random. I have a farm and I consider myself more of a land steward than land owner.
My farm is over one thousand miles away from where I live and I can transport myself there to the ideal of it. The reality is that I am unable and unwilling to tolerate living in the country where it’s humid and there are so many more bugs and snakes and there’s so much more pollen.
When I was a child I spent a lot of time roaming around outdoors. I had chores but no structure. It wasn’t the sort of life where there were piano lessons and all those scheduled things kids do now. Many of the few books available to read were enjoyed sitting in trees or up in the hayloft of the barn.
It was very difficult adjusting to being away at college. After so much space and isolation, the chaos and intense bombardment of other people’s emotions and thoughts were overwhelming. I thought I was a freak and it wouldn’t be until decades later that I would learn I am an empath and that there are techniques I can use to turn down the volume on what other people are going through and tune in to the fact that I really do exist and that I have a home frequency.
One of the things I chose in an attempt to cope was to smoke cigarettes. I smoked a lot–from two to four packs a day. It took up most of any discretionary income I had.
Cigarettes are considered physically addicting. The odd thing was I could forget about them when I got out of the city. I wasn’t even in a city; it was a town. But when I would accompany someone to visit their family on a farm and we spent time outdoors, I had no desire for cigarettes.
The summer after my freshman year was the last one I spent on our farm. I had worried about my need for smoking (I had to hide it from my folks) but I didn’t even finish the packs I brought with me. The first day back at school in the fall, I smoked two packs. They were harsh and nasty.
It wasn’t just being back with my family, as some suggested. When I went camping for any length of time, I didn’t want to smoke.
When I finally quit, it was very hard to deal with the crowded feeling and waves of other people’s anger, envy and fear. And their boring, numbing focus on objective reality only. This was way stronger than any physical addiction I had.
Oh yes, this started out to be about farming. My farm and my interest in it. Maybe I’ll blog about that tomorrow.
In the meantime who I am now, is someone who must live in the city. I would like to go to the country more often but am unable to do so alone and am unwilling to put up with other people’s lack of patience and understanding. That’s O.K.
What I love now is the proximity to art and coffee shops and bookstores and movies all within a few blocks from me.
For my own peace of mind, I don’t have a car. That used to be considered weird but now people seem to have gotten it that lots of things other folks do is none of their business. Really, no matter what other crap is going on in the world today many people have learned how to mind their own business. Even though there are plenty of obnoxious, opinionated people who think they know what’s best for others.
Anyway, I love my farm and am interested in organic, sustainable farming. Now, I’m a city girl too. I enjoyed writing this and am satisfied with it. If asked what my point is, I’d have to guess. I was thinking about how farming is something I’m interested in enough to write about and I am thoughtful about my relationship to nature?