FARMING ISN’T HARD.

I don’t think I’m exaggerating when I say that farming is generally considered some of the hardest work one can do. That said, I likewise do not feel I am exaggerating when I say it should also be in the running for some of the easiest.Obviously, farming is physical. It’s sweaty. Hot. Cold. Bloody. Farming can be—and mostly is—all of those things. But whether or not it is hard is a different question because difficulty is, as all things, relative. Any job can be harder than farming. To be sure, any job you don’t love can be the hardest job in the world.When you don’t love what you do for work—work being what Americans spend 20-30% of our lives doing—then it cannot possibly ever be easy. It doesn’t matter what the work even is, it matters that it taps into some amount of the things you are passionate about.Forgive this analogy, but it helps for me to think of it in terms of wells. We all have these proverbial wells filled with our enthusiasms and idealisms. Some of our wells are deeper than our others, and some can be tapped more readily. But if you cannot tap your wells at all in what you do then you’re going to suffer, dry up. Just check your soil in a severe drought—everything is harder when it receives no water.That said, no matter how hard the work, or how stressful, if you have a deep well filled with your interests and dreams that can all be tapped for the job you do, then your stresses can be allayed. Your exhaustion can be cured. Droughts are a part of life, these wells are how we weather them.For myself, on long hot days I am buoyed by my love of food, by my passion for building soil, for microbial life, and for the homestead. I think of my child (soon children) and how amazing it is to watch him growing up in the dirt—that keeps me going. Nay, it keeps me excited to be exhausted. At this point, the irrigation from my wells flows when I need it to, and I am forever grateful for that. I am also grateful to have chosen a life symbiotic with my particular wells where, even when tired, I can take a break and access them—do a project, ferment, build, plant, grow, cook, brew. I didn’t have this same feeling when I worked in the city making better money than I do now, even in a job I liked. I couldn’t irrigate as easily then, and ultimately it began to hurt. I suffered from depression and exhaustion. Indeed, I had the wells and could see them overflowing, I just couldn’t tap them.Now, I want to be clear that this doesn’t mean farming is for everyone, or that everyone’s wells are a fit for farm life (or, with special emphasis, that depression can always be remedied by a simple change in lifestyle). No doubt, your wells are different from mine, as mine are different even from my wife’s. The life that your wells are fit to water is unique to the individual, and he or she must think hard about what is in those wells—i,e, what makes you happy? To live a life that allows me to tap into my wells of enthusiasm is requisite for sanity. I have survived without access to wells before, but whether or not I was alive is debatable.Maybe it’s a hobby. Maybe it’s a whole new job, a new life, but with acceptance of sounding a little new-agey with all this, one can not let these wells go to waste or run dry. Find a way to always take advantage of your wells and you will find they are governed by an elegant brand of physics—that is, the more you use them, the faster they replenish.- Jesse.