Do you ever plead with the universe for a sign? Ever ask for a hint, something to veer you in the right direction?
You find yourself begging whatever higher power you believe in to show you what it is you should be doing? That was the exact situation I found myself in a few weeks before coming across Jonathan’s farm. I was battling myself almost daily, trying to convince myself that I did want to go to work that day. I couldn’t remember when I stopped feeling the excitement of the day on my shoulders. I didn’t feel that I was accomplishing the my goals I set out for myself, I was in a lackluster routine that no longer held purpose for me.
I got to the farm by what some would say is sheer luck, but after having the experience I have no doubt that we were meant to cross paths. There was something about being at that farm that made me feel that all of the ideas in my head were possible. That every outlandish ‘what-if’ really wasn’t as crazy as I was making it out to be. I felt limitless in what I could dream up, but even more so what in what I knew I could accomplish. The question that resonated with me the most for was, “What is your bliss?” I’ve spent the last three weeks trying to answer it, and while I haven’t gotten it to the point of an elevator pitch yet, I’ve been able to define the characteristics of what I want to achieve. I left with a renewed sense of purpose and excitement; I took away with me the feeling of possibility and left my fear of failure in its place. I realized my inner perseverance and strength. As a self-proclaimed city girl I wasn’t really ready to trek down to a river in tropical rainforest like conditions. Despite the technical and physical challenges, I still made it anyway. After speaking to Jonathan I’m not just bouncing ideas in my head, but letting them come out and seeing what sticks. Putting myself out there, and seeing how things synchronize to come together.
What was most beautiful about the farm wasn’t the lush green mountains in every which direction, the simplicity of Jonathan’s home, it was danger of being able to go to the edge of yourself and still feel safe in doing so. There was a moment where I was lying in a hammock looking at the sky, I leaned up and looked around, and thought about how safe I felt. Regardless of the fact that I had just met the people I was with seven hours ago, I felt warmth and security. That kind of peaceful and fostering environment is extremely difficult to find, especially with people you just met. It had an intangible value for me; I would endure every scrape and splinter ten times over to experience it again.