I want to be a farmer
Driving home from work today, I listened to NPR as I usually do (though lately, I’ve been switching to a station playing Christmas carols to cheer myself up while stuck in traffic due to inclement weather – but today, traffic was good). I listened to a story about a muslim activist turned goat farmer with only a fraction of my attention as I thought about the various things I need to do before Christmas. Until the end of the feature where he was asked to comment on his life in the farm. And he replied,
“When I worked in various corporations, you’re tied up with all sort sorts of things. There’s very little time for reflection. But while I’m here, it’s nothing but time for reflection. The work on the farm is not really high pressure work, a lot a lot of physical work, but it keeps your mind free enough that you can think about a lot of different things, to ponder over lots of things that I suppose are important.”
Suddenly all my senses were engaged and I was overwhelmed by a desire to become a farmer. Fortunately, the feeling has subsided which is good since I harbor no deep desire to take care of animals or even plants. But I couldn’t ignore the root cause of that feeling – unlimited time for reflection – something I feel like I am lacking now. While ‘unlimited’ would be too unrealistic of a target, ‘some’ time would do. And I intend to take or make that time. And writing is a tool to help me on this path.
A new year is approaching and I am still not sure what my goals should be. I do not know what I want. I feel just fine coasting along, but at the same time I feel totally dissatisfied with that type of existence. Two weeks away from the new year, I do not know if I have enough time to clarify my goals, but starting now, I intend to make time to think, make time to reflect, make time to plan and make time to evaluate where I am and where I want to be. [As I wrote that last statement, I realized it’s something my hubby does very well – perhaps I can ask him to teach me]
So, I don’t want to be a farmer (I think), but when next Hubby reminisces about his boyhood days of taking care of rabbits and suggests we would perhaps retire someday on a farm, I will not sneer at him.
