The work on a farm never really ends. I have been waiting weeks to have a moment or two when I feel rested enough to write a blog. I always seem to envision a time of content solitude—it is mid-day and I have a warm cup of tea in my hand while the activities of the past week swirl in my head, ready to receive my attention one-by-one until they have been mentally processed. This never happens.
It is more common to find me yielding free time to a lengthy to-do list that occupies the many small pages which are scattered all over—my bed-side table, mailbox, desk, Village Store counter, pockets. The pages, it turns out, are a good way for me to organize both my thoughts and my tasks. The scattering of papers are sometimes consulted, but many times they are not (once I write things down, my brain has a way of capturing the item, instruction, or task list such that it will be completed by its deadline).
But the never-ending tasks create a problem for me. I am often feel split, and the end result in loss of time and energy. I enjoy details. Many friends (and especially Jodie) have mentioned the extent to which I focus on details. The comments have, of course, been both compliments and critique alike; but as it pertains to taking time, my attention to detail has meant that I take time to perfect the small parts of the task that may or may not be worth the time.
But I am also very committed. This trait encompasses everything I do, and I want to give as much energy and time as possible to what I am doing. At this time, some of the parts of my life (which, by the way, are not actually disconnected—they meld together such that it is often difficult to tell where one ends and another begins) that I wish to give energy and time to are Jodie, Synova, family and friends in Canada, learning, spiritual contemplation (this list, for those who are wondering, is not exhaustive). Though I know it is impossible to do all these things “full-time,” and yet, I try. The results have been disastrous: recently, I neglected to calculate the time I would need to complete a project in the Village Store; when I completed the task, I had missed spending the weekend with Jodie and Synova—the very thing I had been looking forward to. The problem was that I over-committed and felt a strong urge to complete what I had committed to even when it was silly to do so.
It is very good for me to had identified these things now. I regret that it has taken me four months to recognize these traits, but I can now resolve to keep a watchful eye out for when they begin to take my energy and time. Furthermore, I have informally enlisted the help of Jodie and many friends on the farm; they will tell me when I am becoming “too thinly spread.”
There will always be more work to be done on the Farm. I wonder if the biggest part of my education here will be learning to know when to stop.
