i love this quote
Let yourself be silently drawn by the strange pull of what you really love. It will not lead you astray.
Jalaluddin Rumi wrote that.
(translated by Coleman Barks.)
it seems perfect that it arrived in my inbox this morning
as yesterday, reflecting on the last blog post had me thinking about my parents
and how it might have been for them when i told them in early 2006 about my choice to move back to New York to live and work on an organic farm.
not being a parent, i do try to put myself in their shoes as best i can.
at the time i had been working four years at a high-end spa practicing massage full-time.
i was making a “good living” for the first time in my life.
which had began to sprout when i was 21 years old
would not wait any longer
and when i was 34 i realized that if i didn’t do something i would regret it for the rest of my life.
so i left my first well-paying job
to move into an unheated, uninsulated “shackette” of about 10 x 13 feet with my cat to live and work and learn and grow (no pun intended) on a small, horse-powered organic farm.
i can’t blame my parents for questioning this decision.
“you’re going to work on a farm without getting paid?!?”
well, i’ll get vegetables and a place to live and i’ll get a part-time job i told them
(not yet mentioning the shackette…)
made it back to Ithaca just after the start of May
and after a few months, they could hear it in my voice – happiness.
so, reflecting yesterday about the last blog post
and the clear pull of farming, and returning to Ithaca
and how right now there is no clear pull
but something seems to be unfolding
(starting the blog felt like a clear pull)
even though it felt strange, the hermit-private-sort-of-critter in me was surprised by this pull
after the last wordy blog post
which felt like some sort of coming-out-of-the-closet
(this song running through my mind while at work)
i spoke about it with the Rabbits
how knowing people i know (including them) who were following my blog it felt strange to write… there was this sort of hesitation to write.
there’s a sort of safety in anonymity which wasn’t there
it required a certain bravery.
the two blogs i follow consistently are very honest about their lives.
honest and unapologetic.
it’s what i most respect about their blogs.
i could feel a familiar wanting to hide, to curl away from what i had shared.
or the feeling which came up as a result of what i had just shared…
(that would be a shy okra pod)
i found the internal reaction/reverberation from posting is dreamer a euphemism for procrastinator brought out a familiar wave of shame.
shame is like rust
it has a silent, yet persistent corrosive action.
going public about this life
even if it’s a pretty low-key, relatively boring life
has a coming out quality to it.
a rawness, a nakedness, an exposure.
lucky me the Rabbits often will comment without my solicitation regarding blog posts.
their enthusiasm and encouragement feeds whatever brave thing within that got me starting to blog in the first place.
so a bow of thanks and a red shiso bouquet to the folks i know and to the folks i don’t know who follow the salted banana.
another quote kept returning to mind yesterday at work (post blog thinking/obsessing)
the best revenge is to live well
i’m not sure how that quote came into mind…
was it hung up somewhere in the house growing up?
but was struck by the word ‘revenge’ and how it lives in relative state – that is, if i live well, it’s somehow revengeful to someone or something
which didn’t and doesn’t sit well with me
and yet it’s a sort of pervasive thing… this living well thing and the shame i have felt for living my life the way i do.
it goes counter to the culture which is projected on magazines, & various media
that i’ve obviously (and unfortunately) absorbed into my psyche
my life, measured by certain standards would not be considered a life lived well, or successful.
but i like my life, for the most part…
and to me, i live a good life
even if i don’t have certain things to show for it
…marriage, kids, a home of my own, new car, sizable bank account, blahblahblah etc…
the feeling of shame or having-done-something-wrong feeling was pervasive, like an internal net of prickly woven shards of rusty metal
and the blog post turned up the awareness of this shame/net-suit.
tight & uncomfortable.
that shard-y, rusty feeling has decreased.
not that it’s fully gone, necessarily
but perhaps loosened?
at the farm in 2010 & 2011 when i worked my very own 1/4 acre of land with the help of Sara & her horses
(and all matter of element and spirits which aided in this venture)
we’d write haiku
on a large piece of slate
that was in the barn nearby where vegetables were washed
we’d write haiku
sometimes for ourselves
sometimes to each other
sometimes creating them together
this was one she had written to me
(the only one i caught a photo of)
the rest were written down in a small book