Meet Me at the Ice Cream Shop

It felt like summer and so I took May and Jack to the ice cream shop for our first visit since the fall. A group from the neighborhood was gathered in the back: a meeting of minds worrying about the world together. Sounds like a Joni Mitchell song or something...As it turns out, they meet there regularly to cooperatively digest the state of affairs. I'm worried too. Lately, my rather repetitive writing vacillates between concern for our country and our world and my sense of conviction to stay the course and to keep my fingers firmly gripping my faith in restoration.

My faith in a new leaf turning...the inevitability of change and the hope that it's for the better. My sister dropped me a note to ask how I was doing. She sensed that something was off with me. That's when I realized that something was. What was it? It's not the slim pickings time of the year...Rich and I know by now that March is our least lucrative month as vegetable farmers in the midwest and we're prepared for that. It's also not that running a business and a family is overwhelming. We have actually found a great comfort zone and fondness for our circus life and have developed a knack for rolling with punches. The sun is here now and so is green grass and wildlife returning from winter slumber, so I can't blame Father Winter for my weariness either. Yes, there are always "things" behind the scenes in our personal life that keep us on our toes. But when she stopped me in my tracks, that person who knows me better than just about anyone, I realized that despite my considerable ability to keep my feet on the ground and focus on life here and now, I am not immune to the tenuous position that the world is in, the wars being waged, the insidious greed that infects humanity, and the threat of peace. Maybe it's because I am inextricably connected to it: we all are. And maybe it is that I have more time to think and worry this time of the year that got me here.

I refuse to be a consumer of regular news updates and a perpetuator of fear and, certainly, of hate. And so I straddle an "informed enough" life and that of keeping my head down and doing what I can with what I have (As I wrote about a few weeks ago. I meant repetitive when I said it). My gut, ever vocal, tells me that rumination and distress are futile. Taking a page from the school counselor's book, who sends home 'big feelings' guides for the elementary-schoolers, I know that I should exorcise the feelings...or in her words: acknowledge them and regulate my emotions. Or maybe in the heat of the moment, I should just go take on a super physical farm chore and exhaust myself, then get back to the prescribed steps of engaging my parasympathetic nervous system. Not only does getting my hands dirty (literally) ground me (literally and figuratively), it makes better use of my energy.

I've been inhaling audio and paper books, history books and also those rooted in various philosophies, world religions, and even mythologies. I tend to hit the books (and also the late night conversations with my people) when I feel uneasiness or fear of the unknown. This reading spree is reminiscent of the deep dive I took in my late teens...attempting to make sense of the world that was revealing itself to me at that coming-of-age time in life. Those existential questions came to mind that I've heard both of my kids posture already at their young ages...what are we doing here? "Not like right here at Foxhole Farm...but here, in the world?". Way back when, I dug into Thich Nhat Hanh's Living Buddha, Living Christ, an exploration of the intersection of virtues between two faiths, a unifying observation of our oneness as people and our quite common understanding of truth. That book resonated with me and my own conviction that all people, despite spiritual alignment or the lack thereof are born with a capacity for love, altruism, and morality. With that being said, folks from a different walk of life don't seem so foreign or difficult to understand. The bridges already exist between us. Somewhere deep beneath the surface our roots are interlaced in a fibrous network, originating from the same source.

And now, in the present, I find myself wondering, how do various ideologies make sense of war, of politics, of hate? How do they make peace with and make sense of living in a world which seems increasingly inhumane and chaotic? And over the course of history, when world powers have asserted increasingly oppressive force and condoned hate and tribalism, what did the good fight look like? I'm seeking evidence of a turn toward the light in the past. I'm looking for a bolster for my hope. Reading about individuals who, through their work, their art, or their way of life fought the good fight for truth and virtue has ultimately led my search back to myself. It comes down to the individual, and how they participate in their life. To take what you can and run with it, summoning courage when an opportunity arises to act. It's a matter of refusing cynicism and darkness, and exuding light. It's loving. It's a matter of finding resilience and keeping on keeping on. And this recent challenge of my understanding of the world and how it can be so cruel, has ultimately strengthened my belief in optimism. In that original idea that we are all born with the potential to love and the desire to be loved and to distinguish good from bad...which must mean that despite all the lost souls who reject their moral compass, or perhaps have broken it, there is a path to find again and we are not existing in a world of soulless, unfeeling, and inconsequential greed. I believe that we're endowed with a soul which exists beyond this earthly, transitory life...and isn't that comforting? The machine is much bigger than us and has been built over the course of time. And now, just as at other points, the wheels feel as if they could fall off. But there is rebuilding, healing, finding a path.

I hate to see people suffer. I hate to wonder if my kids will suffer from the wheels falling off. But what good is hate? It's utterly unproductive and wasteful. I am going to love the hell out of my kids and Earth and the beautiful people and experiences of this life. I am going to feel the immense love that comes when my soul dances with Rich's and other folks I meet along the way. I'm going to lap up the warmth and generosity of a morning that a gift certificate from school sent us to the local Waffle House, where despite the $5 off, a stranger sporadically bought our meal. I'm going to keep living this renegade life of working honestly on our farm, giving back to the ground what it's given us, refusing to buy into the idea that it's every man/woman for themselves, and instead invest in the knowledge that the joy and resources generated by this life are meant to be shared. Earthly goods and status are transitory and ultimately distracting from our purpose. I'm going to hope for the lost souls who must be suffering as they are squandering love.

Although I'll continue my bookworm ways, touched by other people's experiences and fascinated by their interpretation of life, I don't need any guide to confirm how ultimately powerful and inspiring my feelings of love are in contrast to my darkest doubt and fear. Love conquers all. Love wins. Love is infectious and I plan to test its potency. Seed it here, seed it there...and may it grow rampant in a canopy above its antithesis who vies for the light.

Thank you for reading :)

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