The Yoga of Farming (Saturday December 11—Day 32)

I had full intention of practicing yoga throughout my trip here. I have the time. I know the routine. I am aware of the mental and physical benefits. But I have found that here on the farm, I just don`t really need it. Rather than set apart a time and space throughout the day to practice, I have integrated yoga into my day such that every moment and every act is a yoga.

Not all yoga is about flexibility, six packs, stretching, sweating, and breathing. Although, many forms do take on these elements. Rather, at its most simplest level, yoga is about awareness. Awareness of your body—inside and out. Awareness of how you breath, of how you feel, of how you move, of how you function. Awareness of where you are physically, of your position in your surroundings, of your relation to the rest of the world. This sense of awareness isn`t easy to find. Distractions happen and your mind wanders. But by becoming fully and entirely present, I have turned every task into a form of meditation, I have experienced pure joy from the simplest of tasks, and I have managed to pass my time here without any feeling of boredom or anxiety (except for the pool incident).

What I have come to learn is that farmwork is not always glamorous. You aren´t always harvesting the fruits of your labor. Your aren`t always seeing the results. Many of your days are filled with repetitive, seemingly mindless tasks. I have met many people who justify their work by thinking towards the final product. The ends justify the means, so they accept their tasks and work through it. But I don`t want to spend my days thinking of what is to come months from now. I want to spend my days enjoying the moment that I am in right now. Why rely on thoughts of the future, when experiences in the present are more than enough.

I`ll admit that I wasn`t always successful at my attempt at the yoga of farming. I often found myself planning my future trip, thinking about friends and family, or losing site of the task at hand. But the majority of the time, my life was yoga. I spent my days watching the sun reflect off the water droplets as they fell from the hose to the leaves of the plants, feeling my fingers slowly move as they crumbled the clumps of clay into dust, feeling my blood rush into my legs after squatting for long periods of time, locating the exact point where my back ached so I could transfer the pain to a new location, hearing the wind tickle the leaves before feeling it whip through my hair, watching the ground slowly change color as I sprinkled sand or compost onto the earth, shifting my center of balance from my heals to my toes and back to my heals again, feeling the smoothness of the dishes as the grime washed away, recognizing how my energy can be revitalized simply by smiling.

When everything is a meditation, when I am always present, nothing is aimless and nothing is boring. Even at its most simple, basic, and present level, the world is a wonderfully exciting adventure.

¨An aimless joy is a pure joy.¨