a farm is to hum
tending soils for a more beautiful world
I’ve been dreaming of vast acres of land with forest and pasture, fertile streams, and darkest sky. The land calls to me. And I call to the land. I hear a name: Button Snail Farm. I hear a request: collaborative learning farm. I see gardens of herbs, vegetables, and flowers, children and grandparents together, animals and spirits and ancestors, old trees and new buds, layers of ferns and moss, circles of stories and songs, labyrinths, paths for wandering, and gatherings around the fire—together—weaving, building, cultivating, creating as devotion, as listening, as learning, as love.
We’ve been taught that dreams are far away—somewhere over the rainbow. That we need to plot a path to reach them or accept a story that they aren’t made of what is real.
Yet dreams are as real as everything else.
All consciousness is matter—stone in your hand, memory of your grandmother, whisper from your soul.
Dreams are soil, root, starseed, and song. They need our tending to listen, plant, and follow the wisdoms of snails, beetles, spiders, the sun, the water, and the wind.
The word farm comes from dher, to hold and support; also, firmare/firmus, to settle, strong and constant. Interestingly, dharma also roots from dher. When I discovered this, I felt an ahhh settle in my bones and stretch through my cells.
I feel farm and dharma as purpose, golden thread and rooted wings.
Perhaps to farm is to tend to the soils of our own, and collective, dharma.
There are many kinds of soil.
And we need many kinds of farmers.
I am a farmer of dreams, spirals, and webs of sky. I tend the soils beneath and beyond what we see on the surface.
What kind of farmer are you? What soils are you tending?
We need all the farmers. We have many soils to tend.
We are the world we are creating.
We create this world in each moment, thought, touch, and tear. With each whisper, wriggle, turn, and fall.
This is where and how we farm.
Our work is small and slow and soft.
Our work is to hum—to hear the hum, to feel the hum, to connect with the hum, to let the small and slow and soft of the hum rise through us.
And follow this. Tend to this. Listen and trust and root.
Root our hums
as we become
the more beautiful world.
*
So it is, Melissa
Perhaps to farm is to tend to the soils of our own, and collective, dharma.
Our work is small and slow and soft.
As you tend to the soils around you, Button Snail Hum is a space of tending for you—weekly nourishment for the small, slow soils within yourself.
