Hunger, Part IX

August 30, 2017

Last night I saw a documentary about Wendell Berry's work and what has happened to farmers in America.  I'm not a farmer or even a gardener.  One summer two decades ago, I grew tomatoes and flowers, and I'll admit that  I grew to resent the time that took from my other passions.  I do sometimes wonder, though, if I might take more interest later in life like my father did after his retirement.  Until he physically couldn't any longer, he grew tomatoes all summer, one crop after another off his carport.  And he grew beautiful flowers.  I do respect farmers and gardeners, and I, as readers know, am back to supporting my local farmers' market.  I still hope the family farm can be saved, and I know part of that will come with renewed respect for the land. 

I'm a person of contradiction.  I love cities and cannot live in a rural area, but I realized last night that I have made a great compromise.  My home is in a small city and is generally very quiet inside, but I travel to one of two larger cities (one is an hour's drive away, the other two hours) several times a year, and this year I'm going back to New York City.  Circumstances have kept me from there for five long years, and I'm making that happen.  I get energy that will last me months, and I give my energy in return.  I'm also thinking I want to explore parks in my small city when temperatures cool.  When I lived in the largest of those two cities I mentioned, I visited a park there, fed the ducks, walked around the pond, sat in a swing and read.  I have recently remembered that and started missing it.  I don't think you'll read about me walking in the woods, however.  That scares me more than some side streets or the traffic in large cities.  ;-)

But hunger...

The images and words of the documentary, along with an ill-advised cup of coffee ordered too late in the day, kept me awake far past midnight and brought restless sleep.  I hungered for many things, including for quiet and peace, for the city I love and to travel to another city I want to visit so badly, and for the time and structure to do the work I truly wish to do.  These are not new hungers--this has been coming.  But last night this hunger, these needs (for they are needs, not wishes) burned, not in my stomach but in my soul.  Some of the work I'm doing now will allow the necessary changes, and in fact already does more than a year ago.  I'm starting to realize also why I need these in my life and how important satisfying these hungers is to my happiness.  This hunger, I think, is fueling my others, for in dealing with those, I create time for these.