me, a farmer?

The perpetual nature of the journey, until it's over, can drive us mad. But what I've learned in the last year or so is how the journey goes on despite difficulty and even major error. We have to pull ourselves up a lot of the time - and pull ourselves down, at times - keep moving and keep witnessing to those who always have it worse off than we do.

I think I want to do this, is a phrase often muttered from my lips. And it's driven a few people crazy over and over, when I think it should have been a flame to embellish the embrace of opportunity and ideas I find to be inspiring. If they have been for others, why not for me, I think.I look for signs. And when I see them - and I have seen them, believe me - I talk about them to people who are closest to me. Certain ideas pop in and out of my mind, but a few always seem to persist: more education, traveling to far-away lands to teach, publishing poems and short-stories, and getting married. All these things have been on my frontal lobe for as long as I can remember. Other ideas have popped in and out, some less than practical...and Lord knows I have always urged my mind to veer on the side of that slope, of which I've often failed.

I think I want to be a farmer today. I know nothing of farming, other than growing up near it. And ironically, I'm going back to that land in a few short days (excitedly!). For some reason the continual search for more answers (or shoves) in a direction that would have me tilling gardens and milking cows persists. I see signs to make moves in license plates, dreams of close friends, whispers to recollect of the smell those tilled fields, and a poet whose birthday we will celebrate tomorrow in poetry group at The Center.

Without reading much Wendell Berry, I assess to believe we may have a lot in common and especially with the changing grasp I have held of my own personal-philosophy these past few years (which, I believe, should constantly evolve).


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