manner

manner

Monday, March 16, 2015

fighting the great unraveling

(recently a friend sent me an article about small farmers with the note that she knew I'd have lots to say about it. she's right, of course. I've been thinking about this article ever since.)


I feel under qualified to tackle the plight of the small farmer in a lot of ways. I'm married to someone who can't not grow things. we've figured out some ways to make money while he does that, but really, when it comes to technicalities, we are not farmers. eric worked full time last summer as a farm manager for a CSA in town, but even then, we didn't own the land or the business so a lot of what this article talks about are things I don't deal with firsthand. but more than the struggle of the small farmer (and I am quick to agree that there are plenty of struggles in farming), I am struck by the general attitude of the piece as a whole. let's start with her definition of making a living:

"I wondered how many small farmers actually made a living. Before I set out trying to answer this question, I had to define what constitutes “a living.” I decided making a living meant three things: 1) The farmer had to pay herself a weekly wage that equaled what a person working full-time would make on minimum wage, which in my town would be $360 per week. 2) The farmer had to abide by labor laws, meaning no unpaid workers or interns doing essential farm tasks. 3) The farmer had to earn her income from farming, which meant nonprofit farms that survived on grants and donations didn’t count; neither did farms that sustained themselves on outside income sources."

setting aside the idea of farming for a moment, I can't think of a single family in my circle of community that meets these standards of "making a living." every family I can think of has more than one source of income. every family I know has someone who provides unpaid labor whether it is a family member providing childcare, a barter with another family for some goods or services, or a stay-at-home parent who does the brunt of the household responsibilities without a paycheck. now granted I swim in a circle of creative, intentional people who choose to live out loud their passions and pursuits, so maybe my sample pool is not your standard americans. but really, I am surrounded by people with cool etsy shops and side businesses, people who piece together a variety of jobs in order to make ends meet and still have time to spend with their families or do things they love. I know a lot of underpaid overworkers, too. and I know a lot of folks doing really cool things through nonprofits and grants, and I would hardly say they don't count towards making a living. I get the point the author is trying to make, but I just don't think that is where we are anymore.


the more I read this article the more it isn't about farming to me. I agree with the author that we need better policies for farming, that farmers should be paid fairly for their dedication and their product, that being trendy still doesn't magically make farming sustainable. in fact those ideas are true of many life paths that people are choosing today to do work that matters, to make something that feeds people in one way or another. the bigger picture says that "making a living" isn't how we do it anymore. we've tried that and it made us greedy and isolated and focused in the wrong direction, both in our farming and in our lives. and now we get to choose what to do next.

in happy conjunction with my love of reading farming articles is my love of podcasts on spirituality. the synchronicity of reading this article on making a living and listening to joanna macy talk about what a wonderful time it is to be alive is just too perfect. she not only agrees about the futility of this old model of "making a living," she goes even further to say this:

"I'm ready to see. I'm not insisting that we be brimming with hope. It's okay not to be optimistic. Buddhist teachings say, you know, feeling that you have to maintain hope can wear you out, so just be present.The biggest gift you can give is to be absolutely present, and when you're worrying about whether you're hopeful or hopeless or pessimistic or optimistic, who cares? The main thing is that you're showing up, that you're here and that you're finding ever more capacity to love this world because it will not be healed without that. That was what is going to unleash our intelligence and our ingenuity and our solidarity for the healing of our world. So that is what keeps me going. So the Great Turning is a revolution that is underway, the transition to a life-sustaining society, that this is sprouting up in countless ways, new ways of holding the land, new ways of generating energy, new ways of producing food, some of them very old ways that we are going back to, wisdom of the ancestors and of the indigenous people often, new ways of measuring prosperity and wealth, new ways of handling differences through nonviolent communication, through restorative circles instead of outside the dominant punitive penal system now. There's a tremendous energy …Now something else is going on too, which is the Great Unraveling under the pressure of the destruction caused by the industrial growth society. And the awesome thing about the moment that you and I share is that we don't know which is going to win out. How is the story going to end? And that seems almost orchestrated to bring forth from us the biggest moral strength, courage, and creativity. I feel because when things are this unstable, a person's determination, how they choose to invest their energy and their heart and mind can have much more effect on the larger picture than we're accustomed to think. So I find it a very exciting time to be alive, if somewhat wearing emotionally."

now is our chance. it isn't going to be easy and we won't get paid well for it, but now is our chance to do work that matters. now is our chance to do the right thing even if it means a lack of paycheck. now is our chance to raise a generation of people who see life differently, who don't think of a job in terms of making a living but instead see their work as their part in the great turning. now is our chance to focus on our contribution to the bigger picture rather than our contribution to the economy. now is our chance to fight the great unraveling, to be absolutely present, to be a bit worn down emotionally but still so excited to see what happens next. 


I am not saying that is an easy path. it's incredibly idealistic and that might make it somewhat unrealistic. but even acknowledging the possibility of redirection, of a chance to choose differently, to know there are others out there reaching in the same way--well, I'll just let joanna macy say it for me:

"You're always asked to sort of stretch a little bit more, but actually we're made for that. There's a song that wants to sing itself through us. We just got to be available. Maybe the song that is to be sung through us is the most beautiful requiem for an irreplaceable planet or maybe it's a song of joyous rebirth as we create a new culture that doesn't destroy its world. But in any case, there's absolutely no excuse for our making our passionate love for our world dependent on what we think of its degree of health, whether we think it's going to go on forever. Those are just thoughts anyway. But this moment you're alive, so you can just dial up the magic of that at any time."




Wednesday, March 11, 2015

shake it off

my kids (for the most part) think they are awesome. they are totally correct in that thinking, too: they are awesome. they are creative and funny and clever. they are passionate and (mostly) kind. they have an insightful view on how the world works. they value their bodies as part of themselves, but never a definition of themselves. they are happy and healthy and they like themselves. and they like their lives, I think. 

there is a nagging thought in the back of my head that it may not always be this way. they will not always think I am as cool as they now think I am. they won't think our lifestyle is as fun or sensible or enjoyable. and they won't always like themselves. at some point they will feel hopeless about some decision they've made or feel a sense of failure because someone didn't approve of them in the way they'd hoped. they will not like their bodies. they will be bogged down by someone else's definition of who they should be and what they should do and how they should look. they won't always think they are awesome.

I've had lots of one-on-one time with cora lately and lots of that time has been in the car it seems. cora loves to sing and dance from the safety of the backseat and she gets stuck on a certain song until she learned it all the way through and the rest of are so sick of it we can't bear the thought of hearing it one more time. she asks question about lyrics and asks to hear certain parts over and over. she sings with intensity in her face and glee in her body. it is a wonder to behold in the rearview mirror.


after about fourteen listens in a row to "shake it out" cora finally asked me what the devil is. I'd been waiting for the question since the first time we heard the song, churning in my head to form a real answer. so when she asked I'd already been thinking of how to answer her for quite a while. I told her that people say the devil is the opposite of god and god is love so the devil is all the things that are the opposite of love. "like hate?" she said. "like grouchiness and meanness and lying?" I told her yes, exactly all of those things. I told her in the song the singer talks about how hard it is to dance with the devil on your back. I told her it is hard for us to live with meanness and lying and hate holding on to us. I told her it takes work sometimes to get rid of those things, to "shake it off" like the song suggests. I peeked back to her in the rearview mirror to see her looking out the window. I wasn't sure if she was listening or not. "can you start it over?" she said. of course I can.



she explained the devil to jamin that night at supper. "right, mama?" she asked when she had covered it all just right. right, bean.

I will not be able to keep my children sheltered from all the world will try to tell them. I wouldn't want to even if I could. some of the most beautiful dancing comes in the moment you finally do shake that devil right of your back. even though I cannot protect them for hate and meanness and lying and grouchiness, I can keep them dancing in the meantime. I can keep reminding them how awesome they are. I can remember how awesome they believe themselves to be right now. I can show them my own dance, keep dancing even when I don't want to or don't feel beautiful or talented or brave enough to dance. I can keep shaking off my own devils, the lies and the meanness I carry around in my own head. I can stand up on stage and claim my own courage and sense of worth so that they can be brave to claim theirs, too. 

when I think about my children, the rich tapestry of struggle and hope and loneliness and comfort and challenge and bravery that their lives will be, I think about my own parents, especially my mom. I think of my view of her from my childhood, how beautiful and confident she always seemed. even in those years when I needed space from her, when I was convinced she would never understand me or what my life was like, when that space must have been so hard for her to grant me but she granted it anyway. I think of the way I see her now as an adult, the way I can look back on my childhood and see all she was carrying in addition to being my mom. and when I look back at my mom and when I look at her now I see her dancing. in the kitchen with that silly pop music station she loves, in the car on long trips, in the pews at church as she let her baptist roots show, with my children in the driveway when we pile out of the car to see her. my mom is a dancer. long before florence told us to shake that devil off, my mom was doing exactly that. 

so now I will tell cora she is one in a long line of dancers, all different kinds. I will keep telling her how beautiful she is, how smart and valuable. how her body is part of her but not even close to all of her. how she can do hard things, how she gets to decide what to let in and what to shake off. I will tell her that she is surrounded by dancers willing to dance with her all along the way. I will tell her that love is always bigger. and I will pray and pray and pray that she will believe those things. 

dance on, friends. your life depends on it.




Saturday, March 7, 2015

week in review

things to be glad about

more snow::sixty degree weather to melt said snow::writing every day::kyle is here!::day trip to asheville, a city I am now so happy to love from a distance::clothing swap with lots of my favorite brevardians and new clothes to boot::crocus in the yard::mini road trips with a good conversationalist::kids willing to keep saturday mornings lazy::a call from my sister to ask about starting a compost pile::smiles from kitra::jamin's new habit of announcing he feels "wiggly" as a precursor to a request for a neighborhood walk::

moments worth remembering

(by the way, if you come hang out with me on instagram you can see even more daily fun. @wendymanner)

gnarly nachos because kyle is here


the bean takes on the rock gym!

it is so very true.

when this kid is in town, we eat so dang good.


saturday morning perfection.



things I've read

life is full.

interesting alternatives to standardized testing.

Standing still can be just as adventurous, for the fading light cannot help but change our tones.

our favorite jam




words for the week

"The sun is perfect and you woke this morning. you have enough language in your mouth to be understood. you have a name, and someone wants to call it. five fingers on your hand and someone wants to hold it. if we just start there, every beautiful thing that has and will ever exist is possible. if we start there, everything, for a moment, is right in the world."

~warsan shire