amazing. cold and snow covered atlanta. feels like i'm back in boston. the kids were out of school all week- it was crazy-but fun. yesterday i worked, and again, it was a welcome break. when i got in early yesterday morning i found out two of my patients had died the day before. i took comfort in knowing they died peacefully and pain free because they were up on our palliative care unit- with some amazing nurses who are so good at the caring part of their job. but there is always a little sting- even when expected- seasons of life.
last night i finished my book, 'the dirty life' by kristen kimball. it was the book mike gave me for christmas- about farming, food and love. about a girl from NYC who meets a very different boy- on his farm- and how she leaves her life to join him. she falls in love with him. she falls in love with farming. with the dirt of it, the work of it. and it seems for her- he and the earth and the produce of the earth are all one- they can't be separated. i'd complained about the book because i was hearing too much about farm logistics and not enough about love. but the last couple of chapters pulled it all together for me. i began to understand that for her- they are all related. she found her self- her identity- her place of peace- somewhere she never expected- somewhere she would never have purposely looked. she stumbled into it and then she took a risk.
in the manure and the cold farm house and the 4 am waking and the calloused hands- she found purpose and meaning. it wasn't pretty- but it was beautiful. it was dirty- but glorious. it was hard- but sustaining. it took time, and work- but it gave back in abundance. she describes the constancy of it- the fight against nature trying to reclaim it's wildness. the importance of vigilance- and the consequences of inattention. she began to value these things. she saw both the reliability and unpredictability of nature. and to understand the importance of the heat in summer, the frosts and freezing winter, and the rains in between. each needed, each with merit- even in their extremes.
it reminded me of many parts of my life. of finding myself where i never dreamed i'd be. of finding beauty in the difficult. of process and work and the pain of it- and the glimpses of joy. that joy often comes covered in dirty- like birthing. it reminded me of the value of ritual- of the importance of routine- that those things (which we often complain about) ground us firmly- and we'd miss them desperately if they were gone. and of seasons. the hard ones alternate with the gentle ones-and in the toughness, when our eyes are most wide open- we can see more.
she writes the book about her first year of farming, her first year with her fiancee, 6 years later. this is important. she has the advantage of perspective. of time settling things. of memory sculpting reality, shaving the sharp edges, smoothing the wrinkles. cultivating the lessons and mining the gems from the quarry of that first year. time heals, but time also gives. that is why i love looking backwards, because that's when the understanding comes. "you live it forward, but understand it backward." (cutting for stone). and reflection helps me be more present-or more alive in the present. because my eyes are open and i see more. there is a saying in medicine, "you see what you look for, and you look for what you know." time and reflection-remembering- understanding- helps me to know- with out all the raw emotion that swells in the present. so i can look, so i can see.
last night i finished my book, 'the dirty life' by kristen kimball. it was the book mike gave me for christmas- about farming, food and love. about a girl from NYC who meets a very different boy- on his farm- and how she leaves her life to join him. she falls in love with him. she falls in love with farming. with the dirt of it, the work of it. and it seems for her- he and the earth and the produce of the earth are all one- they can't be separated. i'd complained about the book because i was hearing too much about farm logistics and not enough about love. but the last couple of chapters pulled it all together for me. i began to understand that for her- they are all related. she found her self- her identity- her place of peace- somewhere she never expected- somewhere she would never have purposely looked. she stumbled into it and then she took a risk.
in the manure and the cold farm house and the 4 am waking and the calloused hands- she found purpose and meaning. it wasn't pretty- but it was beautiful. it was dirty- but glorious. it was hard- but sustaining. it took time, and work- but it gave back in abundance. she describes the constancy of it- the fight against nature trying to reclaim it's wildness. the importance of vigilance- and the consequences of inattention. she began to value these things. she saw both the reliability and unpredictability of nature. and to understand the importance of the heat in summer, the frosts and freezing winter, and the rains in between. each needed, each with merit- even in their extremes.
it reminded me of many parts of my life. of finding myself where i never dreamed i'd be. of finding beauty in the difficult. of process and work and the pain of it- and the glimpses of joy. that joy often comes covered in dirty- like birthing. it reminded me of the value of ritual- of the importance of routine- that those things (which we often complain about) ground us firmly- and we'd miss them desperately if they were gone. and of seasons. the hard ones alternate with the gentle ones-and in the toughness, when our eyes are most wide open- we can see more.
she writes the book about her first year of farming, her first year with her fiancee, 6 years later. this is important. she has the advantage of perspective. of time settling things. of memory sculpting reality, shaving the sharp edges, smoothing the wrinkles. cultivating the lessons and mining the gems from the quarry of that first year. time heals, but time also gives. that is why i love looking backwards, because that's when the understanding comes. "you live it forward, but understand it backward." (cutting for stone). and reflection helps me be more present-or more alive in the present. because my eyes are open and i see more. there is a saying in medicine, "you see what you look for, and you look for what you know." time and reflection-remembering- understanding- helps me to know- with out all the raw emotion that swells in the present. so i can look, so i can see.
1 comment:
I recently got this book, and now I can't wait to start it.
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