I'm not sure why, but this spring has me restless. I'm over-caffinated but under-stimulated, a real recipe for disaster. Looking out of the windows at home earlier, it LOOKS like spring, but there's still a chill in the air. Tomorrow, after tonight's massive full moon that's a pretty rare event, it really will be. All winter long I've been pining for this, yet, here it is and I'm vaguely dissatisfied.
Just like the moon will be tonight, my dreams of getting started with this mini farm are close enough to touch. We've been rushing up on it this whole last year. I've been rushing on everything, so much so that all my projects are complete. There's nothing left to do now but sit and wait for the ground to thaw, for it to be time to plant, for a potential gig to pan out, for the mail to come. I've even finished the book I was reading, The Bucolic Plague, which was hilarious but left me vaguely depressed at the end. The sun's out but time's stopped so the world's still a little tinged in grey.
Big moons and big plans aside, I'm back to cultivating nothing but patience. It's the hardest crop of all to grow as it requires zen-like composure and letting go, neither of which are my strong suit. Maybe if the weather holds I can drag a quilt out on the lawn and work on my book idea as I wait.
I can't remember where I heard it, but someone once said that "waiting" is actually a necessary part of the creative process. That it is important not to get anxious, but to re-frame the waiting part as something contributory and beneficial (ideas are percolating in that waiting time). Probably easier said than done -- but thought I'd share anyway. The concept reminds me of the calm before storm, or the intense physical stillness before a cat pounces on something it wants to chase or even the way meditation leads to clarity. Will send you an email soon about this weekend. Teresa @ Oak Tree Farm
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