Down on the Farm

I'm bending over to grab two perfect, reddish green heirloom tomatoes when it happens...

CRACK! I'm a second too late to remember I have a freshly laid egg in my jacket pocket...or what remains of it anyway. It's beginning to coat my iphone. And I can't stop laughing. 

A city girl mucking around on a trout farm. Walking around in the rare steady drizzle that is soaking the Durango valley, transforming the landscape into a lush, verdant vista. There's nowhere I'd rather be. 

A couple months ago, I left my career in network news. A couple of weeks ago, I realized I don't have a "plan" anymore. No next steps, no rungs on the corporate ladder. I'm doing work I find interesting and satisfying but the reality is, I'm getting reacquainted with my life. I actually have the time...I just don't have a roadmap anymore. 

What's left...is my inner compass. My gut. That thing we all know we should rely on but rarely do. But now it's the only thing I have that's never steered me wrong. My ego? Well meaning but...hey, egos rarely make the right decision. They choose status or security or safety, things that rarely lead to real joy. 

After several days of feeling rudderless and strangely uncomfortable with my free time (free time?! What the heck is THAT?? I'm supposed to be BUSY!), I was thinking about how all the greats always say to choose what makes your heart sing, makes you lose track of time, and most importantly what you would do even if no one paid you to do it. 

And it hits me. Animals. That's it. I could spend hours in the company of animals. Lately, that's where I find much of my joy, just hanging out with my kitties Wynnie and Charlotte on the balcony as I read or garden or do paperwork. I'm volunteering with a group that delivers pet supplies to the homebound, either terminally ill or elderly. I've never met a dog that didn't deserve a belly rub or a kitty that didn't earn a chin scratch. Heck I like snakes and pigs and rats and everything in between. 


And...I've actually been working on a project close to my heart. A series of children's books about my late, beloved kitty, Sal. 

Sal, Everybody's Pal. 

I decided to write the books after he passed away. I wanted kids to love him as much as everyone who knew him did, along the way teaching them that adopting from shelters is best, that animals deserve respect and unconditional love and that disabilities don't make an animal or a person any less loveable. 

I've worked sporadically on the project, enlisting the help of a talented friend to illustrate the books. She loves animals just as much as I do, and her art reflects that care and compassion. But we were nowhere near as far along as I liked. 

So during those days where I reflected on my future, I realized my gut was telling me to finish the Sal books. Days later, here I am in Durango, writing this on a farm with a very insistent kitten nipping my knee. My friend and I have made so much progress, we actually have a plan in place and I think we really are going to do this. In between our work sessions, we've gone for a muddy hike with two dirty dogs; we've cored apples (which we will can later); we've visited with baby trout, and hung out with some very vocal young goats. 

So much life. So much vitality. So far from traffic and talk shows and happy hour and shopping and calorie counting. 

It's exactly where I need to be. We have high hopes and big dreams for our project. But for now, the joy comes simply from creating, from seeing Sal and his friends take shape in our words and sketches. 

I'm only here for a few more days. We will fit in a trip to Mesa Verde, we will feed the trout, and perhaps visit the Arches National Park in Utah. 

Soon enough, I'll be back in LA.

But I'll head back happy with a clear head and an inspired heart. 


Most of us live such rushed lives, scheduling joy wherever it fits into our calendars. Perhaps in between the oil change and the spinning class. Or late at night, after the dishes have been put away. 

Being here on the farm has shown me busy is no substitute for true joy. 

I suggest we listen to our gut and choose joy. As often and as much as possible. 

It's our bread crumb trail back to ourselves. 

- XO, D