I have to confess that these last 55 days have been some of the very best days of my life. I’m not saying that I haven’t felt anxious or afraid or depressed. I have, sometimes. But I have also experienced the capacity to abide with those feelings and trust that they are impermanent. I relish this kind of wellness, this inner joy. It reminds me of another time in my life when I felt the same way.
Ten years ago, when Aubrey was very little, we moved to Minnesota in the middle of the recession. We rented a small townhouse on a quiet street and tried to find ways of making a living. I was studying for my master’s degree, commuting 80 miles twice a week for classes while also working part-time. Trevor tried to find work but jobs were scarce and none of them paid well enough to cover childcare costs.
We worried about finances. We primarily lived off loans and savings and didn’t know when we would have a sufficient income again. But there was a contagious energy at that time, a general sense of “we’re all in this together”, like there is now. People were using their free time and limited resources to craft and create. They were growing their own food and brewing their own beer and cheering each other on.
We also resolved to make the most of our time and energy. We planted a garden. Trevor bought a spinning wheel and started making yarn. We scouted out all the best sources of local produce and community connection. We made our own ice cream and kale chips and strawberry pies and loaves of bread. We took long walks and long drives into the country. We read homesteading books and farming memoirs and dreamed of owning a bit of land to raise sheep. Inspiration ran so high that I started blogging about it all. It was a really beautiful time, made so by our imagining of what was possible and accepting the joy of the moment.
Then I graduated, and I got job, and we bought a house, and Aubrey started school, and Trevor got a job, and we got very busy. We were happy to be working and happy to be making money and happy to be doing fun things with the spare time that we could muster. But we lost a few things in the process. We struggled to find the time to garden or do any basic yard maintenance. We were tired and cranky at the end of the day and our parenting and meal prep suffered from it. The spinning wheel rarely left its spot in storage and the blog got forgotten. In our pursuit of happiness, we lost a lot of joy.
Through it all Trevor held on to the dream of owning a farm and we eventually found our current home. Here I am today, looking out the window at the homestead we always dreamed of having. Woodpeckers, blue jays, and robins are scrounging for bugs in the grass and trees outside. I ate homemade granola for breakfast and there is a robust selection of small plants in my garage awaiting warm enough weather to get placed in the soil. I have harvested several handfuls of asparagus already this spring and started a second compost pile. I am blogging.
We make just enough money to live on right now, but the life we are living is many times more valuable to us than the money we are making. Ten years after moving to Minnesota, our lives have cycled back around to a place of joy and inspiration. The future feels so much brighter for having not been written yet. The land we own glows with the potential of everything we might do with it. Having these last 55 days to do nothing but spend time with my daughter and cook delicious meals and mow the lawn and take long walks and write blog entries has made me realize that all of this is all I want to do with my life.
Which isn’t to say that I will stop working in libraries or other part-time jobs that suit my interests. I just recognize that I don’t need to fill my time with work in order to feel fulfilled or valuable anymore, and I am motivated to protect my time at home from being overtaken by work obligations. Caring for myself, my family, my land, and my animals takes valuable time and energy. My joy right now is accepting the gift of that time and choosing not to exhaust my energy.
Angie Gustafson 