Last Friday I ended the day smelling like sun block, sweat and dirt… with just a hint of chlorine. It was the perfect end to a busy day. It was a day spent working and playing in the sun, and it was the way things should be all the time. Modernity has forced many people, including myself, to spend most days confined to air-conditioned boxes with artificial lighting provided to dull our senses. This is not the way to be, and I have determined to reclaim the stuff of earth back into my daily life.
I know that I harp on my days and SFR a lot, but those days were pivotal in forming me as an individual. In the summer of 1992, I can remember walking up a gravel road each morning to meet the staff for prayer. The heat of the day was still a couple of hours away, and the air was always moist and cool. The sounds were soft that early in the morning… just the stillness of the air and the gravel under my feet. Over the summer I memorized the road. I could walk it in pitch black. Each tiny dip, rise and curve settled into my mind. This connection to the land is something that I miss.
This last week I had a list of things to be done before my vacation week ended. The wind had finally finished off the teetering fence on the east side of the house, and I had to get a new one built. I started by clearing the old fence away and began digging new post holes. Under most circumstances post hole digging is a unique kind of torture akin to busting rocks and digging ditches. It’s not on anyone’s list of recreational activities, but that morning I reveled in it. It is sweaty, hard work and my muscles have longed for the challenge.
After digging four post holes, and setting up two of the main posts for the fence, my wife asked me to take a break to go swimming with she and the kids at a neighbor’s house. The temperature outside was holding at around 95 degrees, so the water in the pool was perfectly cool and the smell of the chlorine reminded me of being a kid. We all played in the pool for about an hour, and then I went back to the fence to get a little more done before dark. I stopped working just before dusk. My muscles were spent, and I was hungry for dinner.
It’s a day that will stand out in my memory because it reminded me of the way that I prefer to live. I enjoy the smell and feeling of the outdoors, and I enjoy working with a saw, hammer and nails. These are the times that I feel the most freedom, and the most like myself.
Sarah and I had a vision this last week of the way that we want to live. We want to live simply. We want to have a connection to the land. Somehow over the years we have worked our way to the opposite of this vision, and we are now beginning to work our way back. If our plan ever sees the light of day, we will be living on about five or six acres somewhere northwest of Ft. Worth. We want to work and live on the land. We want our kids to experience life connected to nature. We aren’t quite sure of how the mechanics of this will work out, but that’s the vision. Simplify. That’s the direction.