Farm Inspiration Joy Nature

Where it all Begins

Posted on by Emily

My whole life I have lived in cities. California, Oregon, now Washington. But for the last 2 decades, my life has been split — in time and in attention — between city roots that sprouted ambition and productivity, and an obsession with the natural world that often went frustratingly unfulfilled.

In the past few years, now well into my 30s, my sense of connection to humankind has dwindled. Disheartened and discouraged by American politics, I find myself moving through the world with a deep skepticism, cynicism and fear. I have made small changes to try to compensate: I have chosen and cultivated deep friendships with those most important to me. I have supported local businesses and artists, and participated in professional and artistic communities. And I have donated, signed petitions, and called my representatives. But these actions have felt futile in the wake of a headwind of fundamentally broken systems, limited and archaic moral and political doctrines, and a growing disconnection as a species — disconnection from our natural surroundings, particularly in favor of a false sense of safety, convenience, or profits.

The pandemic has put this into clear view: convenience has become necessity, in the form of delivered groceries and drive-through clinics. Fear dominates our interactions with other humans. In my own professional life, when the intimacy of in-person connection with colleagues and the drudgery of walking from meeting to meeting fell away, what was left was a series of convoluted video meetings and solitary tasks — in which meaning and purpose are painfully difficult to find.

Of course, bright spots arose, and this project is about building a pathway toward that light. During isolation, so many of us have yearned for outdoor recreation as a solace from the fear, and I am no exception. When I could muster the strength (physically and emotionally), I ventured to trails and rivers and lakes to soak in the beauty of the Pacific Northwest, and its non-human inhabitants.

A series of experiences showed me that my connection to nature was not just about beauty. As I flew a peregrine falcon in Eastern Washington, I basked in the richness and agility of this bird, and felt a deep kinship. I was training him, but I felt much more like the student than the teacher. I walked trails with my partner as he identified local plants, feeling myself growing with eagerness for more wisdom about the local flora than I could retain, and bending down to inspect each species, innately saying “hello.” I kayaked along serene sloughs outside of Seattle, pausing to watch a green heron nimbly catch a fish and puzzling for many minutes over a mysterious sound I later determined to be a bull frog’s call (an invasive species, alas, but that’s beside the current point…). And after stressful days at work, I needed only to sit in my paved driveway and listen to the many bird species that inhabited the neighbor’s trees, or watch a Northern Flicker bore into a tree trunk, in order to feel a little less tense.

There were answers to my stresses and anxieties in these experiences, not in words but in feelings. And I knew that it wasn’t just about what I served to learn from them, but about what it meant to be fundamentally intertwined and in harmony with the natural world around me. I continue to come back to the word “spiritual,” even though I have no background in any religious or spiritual practices. My dedication is to learn by listening more, and perhaps to someday come close to understanding what this connection means, and what a nature-based spirituality might mean to me outside of doctrine and dogma.

For a long time, I have dreamt of having a small farm. I always knew I wanted to grow my own food, have fruit trees, raise a flock of chickens, and have a life plentiful with creation and art. More recently, this vision has come into clearer focus as I have learned about regenerative agriculture and the potential for real climate healing by focusing on our soil. I want to create an environment for myself and those I love to find true solace. I want to provide a home for various species, and in keeping them healthy and happy, produce meals (with vegetables, fruits, eggs and honey – not meat) and art (with fibers and plants) that are born from a place that is not built simply to serve human needs, but to be a microcosm of a truly healthy ecosystem, with respectful use of nature’s resources for purposes of creation and community.

The great irony of this is that my current work is highly dependent on technology, and is primarily remote, so it will hopefully allow me to see the first few steps of my farm dream through without cutting off my steady income. But I have yet to discover what the balance will look like of building this life, learning, creating, feeling connected, and making a living.

This venture is, ultimately, a search for meaning and connection. I aspire to be a good listener in nature, and to be a participant in the system rather than a consumer of the fruits of the system. I will use the modern tools at my disposal (Merlin! eBird! PlantNet! Cameras! Instagram! WordPress! Podcasts!) as ways of learning and communicating, and encouraging education and respect for the natural world. As I explore these questions, and as I refine this vision and dig into the practical elements of searching for land and creating a business and a life, I will share all of that here.

Two fundamental questions I hope to get closer to answering (among many others) are:

  • In our fast-paced, Internet-centric world, is there a harmonic balance of embracing technology and returning to a simpler, more nature-focused existence? (Also, is this financially feasible?)
  • Can connection with other humans come with more ease as connection with the natural world is fostered and prioritized? (Hypothesis is: yes)

Why should my personal journey toward meaning matter to anyone else? Because I feel deeply that I am not alone in this search, and that what I have learned and will learn along the way could be valuable inputs into others’ journeys. I look forward to learning from all of you as well, and to encourage a sense of connection that is inclusive of the entire natural world.

Inspiration: