
I sit here, at a coffee shop in Denver, next to a man who believes that the world is driven by two things: “vaginas and cash slash gold” (his words, not mine). Talking to him and hearing his mocking disdain for organic foods, the power of yoga, and leg shaving makes me want to run from this world and into one that’s driven by the seasons, water, food and love.
This week, I came across some information about an organic farm in Colorado. I had no idea where this place was, what they did, or how they did it. There wasn’t a heck of a lot of information about living on this particular farm. So I’m really not sure what compelled me to reach out and write to them. I’m not sure why I filled an email with an accurate description of myself and hit the send button.
I’ve never worked on a farm, and know absolutely nothing about gardening or preparing meals for hungry farm hands. I’ve never promoted a farm or networked within those circles. I truly don’t have a clue as to why I sent that message. I wouldn’t be making any money there. I’m sure it’s not the best place to meet a man. So in the coffee shop capitalists’ world, nothing should have driven me to this place.
But my world seems to be ruled by fate, destiny, and synchronicity. It’s ruled by the energy of others and the way their words and ideas play in my mind. The owner of the farm, Wayne, got back to me and said “I have a feeling you’re supposed to be here for some reason.” I have a feeling Wayne doesn’t say that to everyone who sends him an email. I had the feeling that I was supposed to be there too.
I’d be working in the kitchen, teaching yoga and helping out in the office while I carry on with my writing gigs and start applying for easy scholarships for next year. It’d be a lot of work, but I’d be nestled in the beautiful rockies, near Aspen on a farm with a river running through it.
So why does it seem like I’m holding out on saying yes to Wayne’s proposal? For a long time, I thought that being present in this modern world was necessary to give an opposing viewpoint, to bring the light in to those who wouldn’t otherwise see it. But I’m beginning to feel like that doesn’t work. Perhaps I’m not strong enough in my own beliefs yet. Perhaps I need some time on the farm, to learn what’s written in the soil, to hear what songs the river has to sing. Maybe I’ll find my own “vaginas and gold slash cash” there and my world will start spinning for a whole new reason.
What rules your world?







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