I have been in the Salt Lake City airport for about three hours. I have about another hour to go before I fly to Albuquerque, New Mexico. And I feel fantastic.
Do you know that feeling you get when you don’t know exactly what’s going to happen– but you don’t really care because you know it’s going to be awesome? Maybe you’ve had this experience on a birthday or when you’re in a new city visiting friends and they offer to show you all their favorite places. You know the experience promises to be good; you can just tell. You can feel it. You trust it.
That’s been me all day. I woke up this morning in sunny San Rafael, CA with a happy little tune of excitement twittering in my ear. Today was the day that I would be transplanted not only from my home and my state, but also my life pattern. I have been in school every year, consecutively, since pre-school. Now, I have no homework. What’s due tomorrow? Hmmm. Nothing. Can I borrow your notes from history? Oh yeah. No such thing exists. GPA…..what’s that?
However there are other things to do and think through: get jobs, buy plane tickets, stay up to date on your social networking, make sure you have enough money to get yourself and two bag-fulls of your things to rural Vallecitos, NM; save for college, create a budget, apply to every grant and scholarship you can get your hands on, begin learning about the ins and outs of agroecology, learn how to write grants and fundraise for a non-profit, get ready to move into a new home with new people and expand your concept of family; adopt a new community, climate, pace of life; get ready to not be surrounded by a community of my peers but by the world– or at least the universe of a remote, idyllic, mountain town. This is the kind of “homework” I have been itching to do for a while.
People who know me well know that my comfort zone is perpetually to be OUT of my comfort zone– the growing edge, some of us like to say. To me that is where life takes place. And it could really be anywhere. For me right now, and perhaps for the next year, it’s going to be as a farmer and grant-writer. Have I done either of these things before? Nope. But do I know how to work hard? Yes. Am I a quick learner? Absolutely. I do know a thing or two about sustainability and agriculture. I am in love with food and I am more than comfortable in nature and in rural places after a year at a boarding school in the mountains in Colorado and years of camping and mountaineering. I trust my writing and story-telling skills and, as I learned today in my “Grant Writing for Dummies”, that creating a compelling story based on fact is the key ingredient in securing grants for your non-profit. So do I know exactly what I am getting myself into? Haha, NOT AT ALL! But I find that I like it that way.
I do know however that everything that I have done in my life so far has prepared me perfectly for this next, new adventure. It’s an unknown that I go to today in New Mexico yet I am confident, expectant, peaceful, and very happy. When it’s right, it’s right– you know? Sometimes the purest of logic escapes logic and dwells initially in intuition. Yes, I could tell you my current 5 year plan and the three graduate schools I want to apply to after my undergrad work is finished in 2 years. But know what? The fact that I never imagined, before a week ago, that I would be moving to a new state to be a farmer shows me that it’s good to have plans but better to be ready to have those plans expand, become enriched, inspired, and just what’s needed in every moment. SUCH A CLICHE, but live in the moment. I hated that saying until just now. But now it makes a lot of sense because I feel it. It’s not intellectual; I really feel it. This moment is complete and though I don’t know what’s happening in the next moment or even in a week, or tomorrow, I trust this wholeness of right now. I just feel it. This is not positive-thinking. Far from it. It is knowing– knowing that my life is an adventure that has glorious plans of its own. I feel as if I am only just waking up to what the possibilities are.