Part 1 (Read Part 2 and Part 3)

One of the beautiful things about farming as a career is that it is intrinsically iterative.

I make a plan, work hard all season to fulfill the goals of the plan, then take a deep breath in the cold of November and evaluate what really happened.

Part of that evaluation, importantly, is what the impact was to my health and well being. That feedback loop fuels the following year’s plan, simply because we need healthy, resilient farmers if we hope to have healthy, resilient farms.

In that vein, I truly have my farm to thank for teaching me so many lessons about stewardship, about myself, and about the work of writing. My farm has provided me opportunities to face challenges, overcome setbacks, fail, and pick myself up to try again.

I haven’t given up, because I am so captivated by Nature’s unfolding work. I love this land, and it is rewarding to learn, grow and improve. Each year I become more astute, adept, and authentic about who I am and more clear about the purpose and power of this farm.

Make no mistake. I may be selling vegetables, but I am in the business of nourishing my community. Which obviously, is more than a full time job.

So it’s not surprising that I’m frequently asked, “How do you find time to write?”

The answer can’t be condensed into a simple, quotable phrase. Rather, it’s a conglomerate of philosophies I try to cultivate that set the stage for a (mostly) successful writing practice. These are the fruits of the lessons about time management that I have ‘harvested’ over the years. They apply to much more than just writing, but that’s a great place to start, because without the farm, I definitely would not be inspired to write as I do.

When life rushes forward, find your presence.

I have joked that I need to plant more herbs at the farm. Or rather, one herb in particular. Just think if I could harvest more thyme for all of us! Who wouldn’t add a double order to their share?!

In all seriousness, the closest thing I’ve found to being able to magically grow more time is to take a deep breath and actually be present for the moments of time right in front of me. We often feel as if our days are rushing past us, and yet, when is the last time you have sat still-- with absolutely no distractions-- for just one minute? Literally, for some of us, 60 seconds with no outside stimulation can feel like an eternity.

Our minds immediately fill the void: racing toward what has already happened (that we can’t change), or what is coming down the pike (that we can’t necessarily control).

Somewhere in all that remembering the past and expecting the future, we forget that we are missing the pleasure of RIGHT NOW!

As soon as I’ve met an impending deadline- the extensive list of crops have been harvested, or every last CSA share has been distributed or I’ve come to the end of a long row of weeding, I do my best to simply stop for a moment and acknowledge how far I’ve come.

Sometimes it’s as simple as sitting down on the porch alone to drink a glass of water and intentionally let my mind unwind before I muster the strength and reassess the next most important thing to do. Sometimes it’s literally three mindful, deep breaths before I dig into lunch. Sometimes it’s a quick catnap.

I find a momentary reset clears my mind of the debris of the past, and allows me to come back to a place of equanimity.

It’s simple. The more I pause, the more I remember what matters most. The more I remember what matters most, the more I intentionally choose where I spend my time. Overall, I end up spending more time engaged in valuable work.

As a bonus, I occasionally have a great idea pop into my head right in the middle of my brief stillness. Sometimes it’s a phrase or a metaphor or just noticing the sound of a hummingbird’s wings as she sips nectar on the blooming vines nearby.

When I’m not focused on solving problems or planning ahead, inspiration strikes and I scribble down cryptic notes so I’ll remember. Just like that, the seeds of a future essay have germinated.

Honoring the present with a pause sounds easy, but is it? Only if you remember to do it! The reason many meditation practices focus on breath work is that it is impossible to be focused on your breath and not be focused on the present moment. Noticing your breath can be a doorway in. Set down your phone, your book, your computer, and watch where your mind goes. When I pause, I may not be growing more time, but I certainly feel less anxious and rushed about the time I do have.

What matters most? Ask the right questions.

Over the years, it’s become apparent that my task list could contain a thousand items and it still wouldn’t be entirely complete. But on a working farm, what does “complete” really mean anyway? By August we have set so much in motion, there truly isn’t more time for anything. We spend long days tending what’s been planted and harvesting the continuous waves of ripening crops.

What I’ve learned over the last decade is that it is helpful to make a list of everything that has a deadline, feels critical, or simply really bothers me because it’s not done. However, making the list, and committing to completing everything on the list are two very different actions.

Understanding what I value most and why, is the bridge between my lengthy work list and my actions. This requires one to have introspectively thought through the purpose, goals, and meaning of their own life. You have to really know what makes you YOU. I know, that’s getting pretty deep. But it’s not really about finding time. It’s about using the limited time you have for what matters.

So I’m grateful that in the wintertime I have the opportunity to stop, reflect on my gifts, motivations, and desires.

I make sure I am asking the right questions, not simply the easy ones. Then very, very intentionally, I decide what I will pick up and carry for the year to come. It is through writing that I make sense of my experiences, and oftentimes uncover powerful truths. Thus, my writing is luggage I choose to pick up and carry- because it brings me closer to myself and the community I wish to steward.

“Finding” time to do anything you love takes planning, practice, and commitment. I’m not an expert, but I am determined to keep incrementally making progress, year by year.

Meanwhile, it certainly can’t hurt that we’re adding four more varieties of thyme to our perennial beds this fall. Here’s hoping the coming season brings more ‘thyme’ for all of us to savor. ~AJ