Being and belonging: Place and connection

We feel so supported by so many of you already. Thank you.

We’ve been here 10 years now, and today I wanted to write about the next ten years on our farm, as we become an Agroecology hub. Perhaps we’re growing up to be more of an adolescent farm? Having a vision will help us to build webs of connections, and that’s what will sustain us.

Even though I hope we do all.the.things well, productively, organically, permaculturally, sustainably, and thoughtfully, that will never be the point. I want our farm to be an oasis of connection. Out of place, a bit illogical. Here, I want to catch a glimpse of abundance. Ever a glimpse, because we are still human and frail and worried and scared much of the time.

But in that glimpse of abundance, connection to people and to place.

Connection is never only to a place. It is always to people, living things. It is not just the fruit tree but the full story of everything that ever happened to bring us face to face with that one tree. That flash of everything all at once. A miracle. A miracle we sometimes can’t see these days.

This flash of recognition and belonging and connection also needs physical form. Anytime I have seen deep generosity, it has been nested in a complex mix of place and webs of connection. It is that deep generosity, ties that aren’t shackles, that we’re after.

My wish is that, when you visit here, or even when you are home, it will feel possible to find common ground and feel safe and have a moment of joy and lightness.

I want our farm to be an example of extreme over capitalisation. Of pouring in more than necessary, more than we could ever get out.

“Over capitalisation” is a term I often hear in our neighbourhood. Why did that neighbour get a nice gate? People fear that they’ve spent money improving their homes that they won’t get back if the city forces them to sell. For the past seven years, it has been very hard for neighbours to go all-in on making this home, for fear the city will take it away. No new fences, no new fireplaces. No new gates. Save. Reserve that emergency parachute. With the final draft of the spatial plan, knowing we have not been heard, this feeling is even more acute.

It’s understandable, but I am pushing for the opposite. Walls of bottles, years of work for a spiral of light. Tiles hand rolled. A pool dug by hand. Pouring in more than we can possibly get out is exactly what makes us grow as humans.

So here’s to a being “all-in”, so saturated with our energy and your stories, so woven with connections, that it becomes an expression of humanity, rather than the expression of a family. A bit grandiose, i know.

But in being all-in on community, on making tiny things work so undeniably well, we cannot deny ourselves hope. Because it is hope, endless hope, not money, that creates real growth, real resources. The optimism that is infectious and makes us want things to be better, to do better.

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