Today, as with all Belonging posts, I’m writing from the ‘messy middle’—that space between who I’ve been and who I hope to become. And I do this here, on a publication about soil health, because restoration—whether of land or self—is about bridging the gap between what is and what could be.
Hello Soil Friend,
Is it just me, or does life seem to contain more duality as we get older? Nothing really prepares you for the amount of loss, disappointment and regret that is bound to accumulate as you age. But of course there is also the accumulation of fond memories, rich experiences and accomplishments too.
After a busy and exciting start to the year, I’ve been met with several unexpected and heartbreaking experiences this spring. I’ve been doing what I can to give myself the time and space to process, grieve and rest.
The part of life I’m clinging to at the moment is all the mundane stuff that’s not particularly memorable, but makes up the bulk of life anyway: sleep, chores, meals, time-passing activities.
In this era of convenience it’s easy to gravitate towards a frictionless life, especially in times of stress. Pre-made meals abound, anything you want can quickly be delivered to your door, and even emails try to write themselves. But I question if all conveniences are truly helpful to me, and if all friction is truly inconvenient.
In theory conveniences are supposed to free me up to do more of what I want with my time — am I actually doing more of what I want? What is it that I want anyway and why am I always forgetting? And how might what I want / need change during challenging times?
For instance, perhaps the inconvenience of making a meal does give me more of what I want, a worthwhile friction to my every day.
If I really think about it, at the most basic level what I want is pretty simple: I want to make things. Big things. Small things. Significant things. Inconsequential and Superfluous things. Things with little to no purpose. Things that bring comfort or spark joy. Tangible things, yes, but also abstract, conceptual things. The kind of things that impact others, and the kind that simply please my dog.
Why do I feel compelled to make such things? I’m not so sure, but it seems to be a good indicator of life being lived — using my hands to tinker, my brain to imagine and learn, and my feet to carry me to and fro as I make and share my various things.
Better to not leave my mind or body idle, after all it’s only on this extraordinary planet for an unknown but surely brief amount of time. And the capacities I have today are not guaranteed tomorrow (I could lose a hand at any moment!)
While I’ve been blue, it’s been hard to create certain things (currently sitting on a pile of soil-related writing fodder that I can’t seem to kindle lately), but I inherently create nonetheless:
I haven’t seen my appetite in weeks, and yet I make myself at least two beautiful meals a day because at least the sight of them is satisfying and makes me feel cared for. I haven’t had the energy to keep up with two-thirds of my garden, but the one-third and I tend to each other daily. I’ve not had the will to pick back up on a house painting project, but the simple caring act of making my bed and tidying up has taken on new significance.
I know I will soon ‘carry on’ and return to the bigger goals I had been working toward in my business, home and community. But for now, I’m giving myself permission to just keep up with my basic responsibilities and appreciate the things that are inevitably created everyday. That is, to at least acknowledge that even during a trying time, I’m still here and making things.
I’d love to hear any reflections you may have of your own, or hear what gets you through a hard season. Will return to regular soil health and composting content very soon 🤎
With Love,
Andie
Things I have made or enjoyed lately (aka: proof of life):
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