I spent the last few days "At Home" in Minnesota on the farm where I grew up. My brother Charlie, whom I haven't seen in awhile, is visiting our mom, and I wanted to spend some time with him. So away I drove, out of the frying pan and into the freezer!
Although it has changed - buildings have worn out, some of them are even gone, the silo is but a shell these days and the windmill will never turn on it's squeaky axle again - much of it remains the same. It is, in some ways, a bizarre time warp to go back and sleep in the same room where I spent my years of teenage angst, wondering where life would lead me. It is probably a good thing I didn't know then what I know now, or I would never have had the courage to leave in the first place!
On this visit, Charlie, the construction wizard of the world, has saved my playhouse from falling down around our heads. These days, it is used for storage instead of playing, but it's still my sentimental favorite building, and I'm happy that he made the effort to fix up the place where I spent so many happy hours planning out my life and my future. The yard would look much less complete without the playhouse standing proudly by, and I have plans for that building someday (perhaps it will have to be a replica, though.)
Like most farmsteads, this one needs constant maintenance and upkeep. On this trip, I spent a little time reformulating a bed of lilies that has been there forever (or at least as long as I can remember!) My mother has wanted it gone for awhile, but by the time she figures out each year how to deal with it, it's too overgrown to tackle. So I got out there with a shovel and a hoe, and I attacked the rapidly growing greenery which is currently threatening to take over the world (or at least her entire front yard.) I reformed a bed that will provide a pretty divider between the front yard and the side yard, and we came up with our two year plan that will give us what we want, if only we are patient and diligent.
Farmers are patient, long term thinkers. They plant in the spring, hoping for the payoff months later in the fall. They know that in between there will be hard work, back breaking labor to till, plant, nurture and eventually harvest whatever crop they have grown, and that one hailstorm can wipe out the effort for the entire year. It's a gamble of a life, but I have learned that all of life is a gamble. And the payoff is worth it in the end, when the crop is in and the money has gone to the bank.
We all set out in our early 20's thinking that we have the world by the tail, impatient for all the good things that are heading our way. For some people, it actually works that way, of course. For the rest of us, it turns out that the tail is not the part we need to hang on to, since it's the head that will bite us when we aren't looking. I must be a slow learner, because I keep getting bit, and haven't yet found the way to dull those teeth that keep leaving their mark on me.
I have learned much in the last 30 years since I graduated from college and embarked on my adult existence. I was naive about the ways of the world, and like most young people, made decisions based on the now I knew instead of the future I couldn't envision. I can remember sitting in my dorm room all those years ago, thinking about graduation and what it would mean for my life. Giving up the academic world where I existed for so many years and moving into the work world was a scary and exciting proposition. (Turns out, it was scarier than it was exciting, given the abysmal job market at that time. I ended up not getting a job, and running away back to graduate school, instead!) I should have taken that as an omen, I guess.
It is a curious feeling to return to the farm where I spent my formative years. It is quiet and peaceful in a way that energizes and refreshes me. I walk where my grandparents and great-grandparents walked, and I feel a connectedness with my own history that I cannot experience anywhere else. I step on ground that my ancestors claimed for me, and realize the impact they have had upon me even though I never met them.
In the journey that is my life, I have run into a few twists and turns that I did not foresee in the dorm room days. Life is about evolution, and I am a little surprised to find that I am still evolving, even at my age. When I was young, I thought by the time I was 50 I would be static and set in my life, but I was misinformed. I am overcoming past assumptions unexpectedly late in the game. Time does not stand still, and I will have to run if I want to catch up with those who figured things out a long time before me.
Like the bed of day lilies so ruthlessly cut out of the yard, leaving only the flowers and bushes I truly want, I am discarding those experiences and attitudes that no longer fit into my life. It is difficult at times to decide what to keep and what to toss, but in removing the obstacles we throw into our own path, we also free ourselves to be the best version of who we are. While I grasp tightly to a life that no longer suits me, opportunities for something better tailored to my current self and my changing desires are passing me by. The brass ring on the carousel will not jump unbidden into my hand - I, like everyone, must reach out and grab it, taking the risk that I may fall off along the way.
In re-experiencing that familiar place, my perception of what is necessary has also changed. In revisiting the past, I have suddenly found the future. In letting go of the old, I am unexpectedly free to reach for the new.
I will be patient now and think for the future - not just tomorrow, but for the many years to come. Like the building which started as a brooder house, then became my playhouse, and is now a storage building for deck furniture and cast off articles no longer needed, I,too, can morph in new directions when the needs have changed. It is a renewal to let go of old hurts and old habits and the old mindset that hold us firmly in the wrong place. By letting go, I am free to build new feelings and experiences that will better suit the life I am now leading.
By returning to the place where I grew up, I have been reminded that life is ever changing. Each day is a new opportunity, even when it is old and familiar. By thinning out the unnecessary plants that are so root bound they are no longer functional, we are allowing those we do want to have new life. If I am stuck in Springer World because I'm too afraid to write a new story line, then it is ultimately my fault when the show goes into reruns.
One of these days, I'll be heading back to Walton's Mountain, and I'm looking forward to the journey. I just hope my playhouse, or perhaps a whole playgound, is at the mountaintop this time around!
