The Greatest Work of Art

The coming spring will be an exciting one: 1,000 trees will be planted at schools and in our orchards, 1,000 students will learn about and experience the importance of local agriculture to our environment, 1,000 students will be able to explore the trees and shrubs on their own, thanks to $1,000 we are on our way to raising via Kickstarter.

A few stars from our video pose for the camera. Click here to see their film.

Countless seeds will be planted in our new farm, and thousands of people will be able to buy our produce on a sliding scale. Many more people will learn about growing their own food, and still others will be able to feed their once-hungry families. (As was reported in a 2011 Sun Journal article, USDA surveys found that "15 percent of Maine households weren't able to put adequate food on the table last year." Click here to read more.)

Richard and I can barely look out on our fields without spouting off a hundred new ideas and dreams for the land and the people we work with.

With all of these thoughts--plus visualizing our wedding gardens, making my wedding dress, and spreading the word to our guests--I find my mind incessantly drawn out of the present moment and into the future.

Because my thoughts on the future are so pleasant, it's tempting to let my mind go there whenever it wants.

However, I find that even the most wonderful dreaming, even the most creative and innovative thoughts of progress, can distract us from the beauty of the present and from being here now.

As Ram Dass, author of Be Here Now, once wrote: "We are all affecting the world every moment, whether we mean to or not."

Those interactions we have in this season, such as introducing our program to kids, teachers, families; preparing our cover crop seeds for the ground; walking our fields, watching green winter rye emerge through snow banks; those moments are even more important than our hours spent planning for the future.

We can foster that appreciation for the here and now in the young generations we teach by simply spending time with them outdoors.

Herbert Hoover said, "Children are our most valuable resource." And that goes for the future and the present.

They can help us see the wonder, and we can help them understand it scientifically.

Some adults keep that childlike wonder their entire lives. (I like to think I'm one of those.) They see this universe as the greatest work of art, and they inspire others to do the same.

I recently visited the studio of my friend, Jennifer Nielsen, who is a Maine-based jeweler creating her own art out of nature's. (You can see some of her work by clicking here.) I looked at her jewelry--an exquisite display of wearable beach pebbles she collects herself--alongside a shelf of inspiring items like seed pods, feathers, and other tiny works of this great masterpiece we call earth.

Tracking animals (just for fun) on a garnet sand beach in Cape Elizabeth, Maine is one way we like to be here now. Photo by Richard Hodges.

We, like stones and seed pods, are art forms. We are all uniquely beautiful, and we all contribute in our own way  to the greater composition: this planet we call home. 

It is good to assess where we've come from, where we're headed, and where we would like to go. But when we pay attention to the beauty of the world right here, right now...the crackling leaves, falling snow, bird songs, bright stars, and yes, our own gifts and beauties...that assessment comes naturally, without effort.

When that happens, appreciation, satisfaction, and strength to move forward comes, too. Thanks for being with us now, as we grow a healthier planet...together.