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Too Much, Too Fast, Too Soon

So today I popped into the bookstore downtown for a quick break, and what did I find but CHRISTMAS vomited all over the store!! It's not even Hallowe'en, people.

(Am I aging myself by saying I remember when stores showed respect by waiting until after Remembrance Day to bring out the holiday cheer?? Doesn't that seem so quaint and old-fashioned now??)

It made me think about how much pressure there is in our culture to go fast. Whether it's reading tweets instead of novels, rushing our kids through their childhoods or starting Christmas a full TWO MONTHS early . . . I can't help but wonder what is lost in all this rushing about.

Farming forces us, whether we like it or not, to be present in the season we're in - for good, bad or ugly.

No matter how much I want a slice of tomato for my sandwich in February, or for the late nights of lambing to go by faster, or for the damn canning to be done already! - I'm forced to sit in the moment I'm in. In doing so, we earn the joys of anticipation and the satisfaction of delayed gratification.

The tomatoes of August, the full pantry of February, the first good night's sleep after lambing . . . All these things are that much sweeter for the waiting.

This week Jeff started to build the farm store - a project nearly a decade in the dreaming. These things, the good things, take time. Attention. Persistence. Faith. All skills that are quietly being eroded by a steady stream of too much, too soon, too fast.

It takes a forceful, intentional act of mindful resistance to be present and alive to the moment we're in, given all we're facing. There are billions of dollars invested in ensuring that we don't protect our attention from those who wish to profit by it. I am so grateful to have all you by my side in the trenches. You make me feel seen and not alone in the fight to simply BE.

Thanks for sharing your precious attention with me. I'm forever grateful.

As always.


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