Why leave the security of a “real” job?   Why leave the drunken thrill of parties, the sexy allure of shoe stores, the creative genius of fine dining?  Why choose ticks, mice, fire ants, and other country beasts over happy hour, gourmet groceries, and evenings simultaneously connected to the tube and WiFi?

It’s not all singing the Good Ship Lollipop out here.  I dig out two ticks a day, minimum, from various unmentionable parts of my body.   The ancient librarian has no idea what WiFi means.  The local Farm and Ranch shop owner smirks when I say “organic.” Poison ivy so far appears to be the only thing I can grow effortlessly.

The small towns of America are dying, if not already six feet under.  I feel no responsibility for this, nor any need to resuscitate them.  It’s a lot like when I joined the Peace Corps, yes the good intentions were surely lurking there somewhere underneath, but I never doubted that I was learning much more than I could ever hope to offer back in cash or kind.  I just wanted one thing, then and now.  I just wanted to wake up and walk out my door and hear the work calling me.

Truth is, I never felt this before now.  I never felt, in my numerous occupations before this seeming “non-occupation” that the work really needed me; that the work was calling to me.   Yes I know that ultimately this work is good work.  It will save our planet somehow, it will sing our praises eventually, it will summon a new age of stewardship toward the Earth and gentleness toward each other.  I just know it.

But I do it because the land and the birds and the peace make sense to me, in a way the office and the malls and the noise never have.

“…the salvation of this human world lies nowhere else than in the human heart, in the human power to reflect, in human meekness and in human responsibility. Without a global revolution in human consciousness, nothing will change for the better…” ~Vaclav Havel