I fell in love with a farmer.

I fell in love with a farmer. I fell fast, but must admit it was for superficial reasons that have to do with my enormous appetite… I knew I wanted him when I saw the size of his…. Garden.

I began to live the dream, escaping my life here to retreat into the sequestered bio-dynamic paradise as the vision of our lives unifying became the subject of our pondering…

Only it didn’t work out that way.

And when the whole beautiful story came abruptly to a close, and all of my planning and worrying and dreaming came to a halt; I was fine. It could be that I’ve had my fair share of broken hearts and know the routine well-enough to skip the devastating finish… or it could be that I had a moment of grace. All I know is that that beautiful clear voice inside said, “So plant your own garden darling”. So instead of crying… I picked up the ho.

I realized that my love for that farmer, was a love for a way of being. That I did not just want to live with him, I wanted to BE him. In effect, I admired him so much, I wanted his qualities to infuse into me, as if they would transfer through proximity. But whilst with him, I only agonised over my own inadequacies in comparison to his power, independence and joy. I realised in the moment at the end of the relationship whilst veering away from suffering, that I would never be happy with him until I was living my truth…. the truth I saw reflected in him.

So in the end… I could not be with him. But I could reach whole new heights of joy and fulfillment if I chose to gratefully let him go and be satisfied with the lesson learned.

My garden hadn’t been walked into in at least 6 months… I had given up in the summer with the drought and scorching heat and cracking earth. After our torrential winter rains the clover was wild and thick covering everything. I cut through her soft patches and pulled up 2 single rows for Lettuce, Tomato, onion and zucchini. The basics. Start simple. And I didn’t care if the rows were straight. I was making my own food for myself and my family and what was important was that the soil was rich.

But the soil is not rich here on the hill. It is dry clay.

The compost pile was more like just a vegetable dump. I never actually expected to get soil from it as I had never actually had a compost heap long enough to see the results. But this New Years (The time of the break-up), marked the beginning of the 4th year on this land. So I went to the heap and stuck in deep with the pitchfork… and when I turned her up, down at the bottom was rich black earth full of worms.

At that moment… the abundance of the soil I had “created” was the image of the years I have put in to creating a life where what I needed was there at the moment I was ready to dig in… and I needn’t change anything. I just needed to trust the process.

And I saw clearly that I can have my own paradise, when I decide to take it into my own hands.

I fell in love with the farmer, because of the self-determination and the passion for creating  life. Now that I am doing it for myself, the love is there for everyone.


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