Opting for a life of gainful unemployment, one directed by entrepreneurial, agricultural and other pursuits of the heart, prompts a lot of questions from folks who are curious about it. And the one that comes most frequently is, “what are the greatest challenges?”
I think I know the answers they are anticipating: working long hours trying to preserve the harvest, or standing on one’s feet all day in the cutting room, or getting up early to haul products to market, or having to be tied to the kitchen table five days every week for homeschooling. But the answer I have is always the same.
The greatest challenge in our family is negotiating among competing joys.
It sounds pretty wonderful, nearly impossible….perhaps even as though it were a lie. But competing joys are the theme of our life. If we are walking fence lines it is because we want to be keeping livestock. If we are hauling meat, it is because we want to go to the farmer’s market. If I am up early in the morning, it is because I want to write. If I am sitting at the kitchen table every day with my daughters, it is because I want to teach them. If we are washing a lot of big pots and pans, it is because we want to eat well. If there is dirt under our nails, it is because we want to work in the garden. The livestock bring us joy. The meat tastes delicious. The farmers market is a source of deep pleasure. The writing feeds my soul. The homeschooling nourishes our minds and hearts. The garden fills our table and is as pleasurable to gaze upon as an ocean view.
This is a life built intentionally, where dreams manifest through choices. But the challenge to negotiate among competing joys is very real. Gardens keep growing, livestock requiring constant tending, kids keep learning, ideas keep flowing, people keep eating. None of it ever stops, and at any moment of the day, all of them may require attention. And so, the day grows long. And we stretch our bodies to a breaking point. Muscles tear. Backs wrench. Eyes strain. Knees buckle. …And the joyous activity transmogrifies into a task, and the day suddenly requires a to-do list. The week demands a tactical strategy.
It is August. It is the time of year when all of these competing joys come to a head, where the intensity of summer crashes head-on with the urgency to prepare for winter. I long to have just one more day lounging beside a water’s edge with my girls, but instead stare down the mountain of firewood that needs to be stacked; clutter my desk with pre-orders from my customers; struggle to meet my writing deadlines; try to keep up with the fat to be rendered and the production of candles, soaps and salves; fill up my kitchen with the water bath canners and the pressure canner and a multitude of jars; perpetually re-arrange my freezer to hold more winter food; and struggle to find a few quiet moments to prepare for the start of the girls lessons, less than three weeks away.
There are two secrets to getting it all done. The first is to remember that they are joys. These are the ways I have chosen to fill my life. When I am standing before a bushel of beets or facing a mountain of peaches to scald and skin, or preparing to stack that first armload of firewood, or gathering berries for the freezer, I cannot think about completing the task. I cannot think about what must be done after. I must think about the fact that I have chosen to do it, that I am where I want to be. I maintain my energy by remembering I am doing what makes me happy, and allowing my mind to slip into a state of blissful reverie as my body enjoys the physical pleasures of the task.
The second secret is to look forward to the coming winter. The days are growing shorter. The sunlight less intense. “The rest will come then,” we constantly assure ourselves. Or mother nature will hand us a “free day” card. She will make it too hot to work, or she will fill a day with rain that keeps me indoors and beside my knitting basket and a novel, that allows Bob to weave rather than clean out chicken pens, that lets Pop Pop postpone de-worming the sheep, that gives Grammie a break from the garden.
But mother nature can be a fickle field boss. The winter rest is never as long as I wish it to be. And lately, she has handed us one glorious day after the next, and blessed us with rains only as we slept, making each morning fresh for growing and laboring. No rest is in sight until November. And while taking pleasures in the task helps the body to work far longer and produce far more than most people typically accomplish, it can be a bit like taking a pain reliever to mask injury to enable further strain. If there is a lesson we have yet to master, it is to honor the nature within our bodies, to recognize that, just because we like what we are doing does not mean that we can perform without rest. It is true that we do not live this way because we have to. We live this way because we want to. But we must take that same truth and apply it to our rest and recuperation. We must choose those things now, when we want them, before they become compulsory. Otherwise, this life built by intentions and choice will suddenly be dictated by requirements for medical care and rehabilitation.
This life is still about competing joys. There are joyful labors, and there are joyful rests. The balance between them must be achieved. And right now, thinking all this over, I think it is time to choose in favor of the joyful rest. Today, I will chose only those tasks which enable me to breathe most deeply. Maybe I won’t wait for rain to pick up my knitting or my book. Perhaps today I will knit and read in the sunshine….as soon as I’ve made a dent in that wood pile…
Reading this was the perfect way to start my day! Thank you.
Several years ago, my husband and I made a commitment to eating only locally and sustainably grown or raised food. We grow all our own vegetables and pick local organic fruit and I preserve everything. It’s very rewarding to sit down to dinner and know you are independent of industrial agriculture. I am nearing 64 years old and have days when I just don’t feel like doing all the work involved and your essay today hit home. I don’t have anywhere near the workload that you do but I find as I get older, my energy isn’t as consistent as it used to be and I have times when I struggle to keep up with it all. Connecting the joys and rewards of our goal to the everyday chores is a wonderful way to focus on the task at hand. Thank you again for your amazing insight and for taking the precious time to share it.
“Competing joys” is a gloriously positive way to look at all that fills our lives. I’ll try to remember to use this term. Thank you.
Thank you for sharing your life with us. As I read the Tuesday’s musings, I can only stop and admire what you have chosen to put on your plate. Loving the fact that you are clear in the ongoing need for balance in everything. May you continue to share your grace of spirit.
Thank you so much for posting this! This was a really nice read and I am going to try to start thinking like this whenever I feel a bit under pressure. You and your family are a huge inspiration.
Everything competes for joy, sometimes all I want to do is say okay, thanks God, let me just sit here and watch things go by, especially since the day went by and so much is left undone. Tomorrow is another day, another smile, another sunrise or sunset, just glad to be alive and share it. Happy summer, remember to stop and just smell what is around you and wiggle your toes and have a hug daily, at least one is mandatory. Bless us all Lord everyday for friends and family and associates that come and go. Peace to all!
I too made choices about how I would live and the work I would do. My husband and I live in a mid-sized city. We chose to be artists and artisans back in the early 70’s when a person could make a decent and honorable livelyhood if you also chose not to get too involved in the growing consummer economy. Times are harder now.
We always felt it was most important to follow our interests and develop skills we were or wanted to be good at. My father, also an artist, at mid-life chose to build a 60′ sailboat and my husband, kids and I learned navigation, helped build a small sail boat, studied the stars, studied sail making etc. We had the time to follow our joys because we chose a simpler lifestyle. Like my dad we learned to scrounge, do without, shop at thrift stores and garage sales, reuse, make-do, and repair our tools, household equipment, computers and autos. My grown son can’t imagine living any other way, he keeps our cars running. My grown daughters could rebuild a house alone if neccesary.
Times are harder now because of the economy and the physical limitations that come with aging. Sometimes my husband, a singer/songwriter, gets discouraged because though very well appreciated in our community, he never really wanted to do some of what was necessary to make more money in music such as traveling around our part of the country to play in lots of bars. I throw back words that I use on myself. “We got away with it! We lived our chosen, authentic life that people usually can only dream about. Many people are still hopefully waiting for retirement to do what we did every day!”
I agree that it was often hard work but I loved working hard at things I was interested in. Do take care of your body and give it the rest it needs because you can end up with some physical damage in your later years. I wish I had known what we know about nutrician and food now. We did pretty good though since we avoided “factory food,” doing our own cooking etc.
Now I try to accept the fact that I am not able to come as close to perfection as in the past. I think the hardest aspect of this is the fact that we do live in a city. We always looked less “normal” than we would in the country. I do grow some vegies and garden, mostly because I have a deep interest in the life sciences and love to connect with and observe nature. Luckily we chose to buy a house downtown, in a warehouse, small manufacturing area. My lot looks like and I suppose actually is, a wildlife sanctuary for native birds, bugs, small animals and flora. (Weeds to some.) Most neighborhoods won’t tolerate anything like that. As you can imagine, inside the house looks like a recording studio and workshop and includes my studio. Being around people who don’t understand the way you live sort of pushes you to take on tasks that are done to keep other people comfortable… Or maybe to keep mayself comfortable around city dwellers.
As my energy decreases with age, I stop doing the tasks I have done to fit in, the tasks that do not contribute to my joy. So now I am becoming something of an eccentric. Not a role I aspired to, but a person has to get some rest somehow.