Grass Stained Me.: Power Tool Exploits

Any of you girls (or maybe some of you boys) feel like a bad-ass when you've got a power tool in hand? Clearly, I am a product of my middle-class urban upbringing. I'm clueless when it comes to practically minded utilitarian things, which makes for a rather haphazard and comical existence here in my very rural, very self-sufficient life. Rough hands and wrinkles filled with sand dust characterize this world, and I arrive an overly enthusiastic ball of giggles in yoga pants and over-sized sun glasses.

Recently, I've started to wonder if I'm really as incapable as I imagine myself. Maybe all I'm lacking is experience. Laura visited me last weekend and I shared with her my desire to throw myself at projects I would't normally find myself doing. Sometimes I'm paralyzed by only doing things that I know I'll be good at or will experience a certain level of success in. Laura agreed that doing projects for the love of creating was a worthy endeavor. She reminded me of Buni's idea to spend a year of doing Other Things, that is, things that don't exactly get you anywhere but that you genuinely want to do. When my mentor Claire was my age she spent an entire year dedicated to following her heart. I've accidently come into a similar place in my life; I'm ignoring my skills (or lack thereof), disregarding the results, and just doing things for the sake of experimentation.

And I've been having a blast! I research ideas and plans, pick the brains of my handy friends, call on the support of my inspiration team, and then get to it.

This undoing of how I perceive myself reminds me of my friend Phoebe, who I first met while transplanting in a green house last spring. Phoebe's hair was neatly in place and her clothes clean, an unusual look for girls who work on farms. And…she wore pearls. Everything about her, from her put-together appearance to her placid demeanor simultaneously baffled and intrigued me. She defied the norms of farming. The next time I saw her she was under a tractor. Fixing it. And yes, she was wearing her pearls.

I love the contradictions that people embody. I love developing a level of confidence in the thousands of worlds that exist. I love the novelty and discomfort which inevitably arise when entering a new culture. I love the satisfaction that accompanies a level of mastery, apparent in our ability to glide effortlessly through our experiences. I love the blending and merging of these worlds, revealing those moments of exposure when we took a step to create ourselves anew.