I encourage you to catch one of my mentors, Dougald Hine if he passes anywhere near your home this month, including an an event that Sam and I are organizing with him in Burlington, Vermont on Sunday 9/22.
I think something that is so remarkable about your writing is that it defies timelines. You write from your present and speak of times both future and past. It helps me to see everything in a more circular way which is so meaningful from where I am on my timeline. Thank you.
This is gorgeous, Karina. All of our diminished capacity for neighboring is just waiting for a bit of sunlight and a good soaking rain it seems. You've probably heard the question: "Is the seed the oldest part of the plant or the youngest?"
hey, we know some really authentic concrete guys too. The man who runs the business has a beautiful tough love way with his crew. He is practicing for the day we no longer have drug rehab centers, job training programs, or homeless shelters. He has one man living in an old school bus behind his shop, he helped another one buy a home, and he keeps peace among the lot. I imagine he could be a pirate captain in another era. He works for some of the "richest" people around because he is a house lifter and much needed for saving their historic new england homes and barns. His appearance is that of a really rough dude; but he knows his stuff, does top quality work, is kind, and wise. I feel bad for people who have no friends like him.
Adam, words from the most recent Substack post by Gregory Pettys come to mind here: “I have found it a bit overwhelming recently, as I barrel through my 40’s, to realize that if I don’t start embodying the teachings of the wise ones, than those teachings will likely die along with my teachers.” Human hospitality and neighborliness seem to me like some of those wise teachings that will be lost with older generations if those of us within the middle generations resist embodying them. In light of that potential loss, practicing for the day grocery stores no longer have stocked shelves might well be one of the most distinct and accessible trellises of thought (to borrow from Elizabeth Oldfield) upon which to grow habits of living in the present moment.
My gratitude to you yet again for your willing commitment to gathering these stories and gifting them to whoever desires to hear them. I have a feeling the mundane weight of daily work within Sand River Community Farm has as much to do with opening wide a doorway for such stories to come through as it does with the land and beings with which you are building direct relationship. All stories of thriving require their tangible roots, their anchors in living. Thank you for tending to both the rooting and the telling of them.
These ideas, however beautiful they may be, will remain stillborn unless they are planted in real ground. The stories emerge as beautiful surprises once the idea-seeds have had spent some time in the moist dark underfoot. Thank you for leaning in and listening with me, Jan.
Your words move me to tears every single time. To see such kindness, such generosity, such community spirit which truly is I believe the heart of human nature. I am awed and inspired by everything you’re doing.
Adam, your depiction of the concrete man and his workers and you wondering how they see you, the Ivy-league grad, is wonderful and relatable. My college education did 0 to prepare me for life or work; both have put me in contact with many working class people. I’ve heard so many comments over the years about “those damned college-educated idiots don’t know nothing!” (And so often it’s true!) A tradesperson I spoke with told me of the disdain and disrespect directed at him by architects and engineers. This saddens me. I have nothing but respect and gratitude for the work these people do. Indeed, it is work most of the rest of us cannot live without.
Each of your pieces leaves me with one indelible image. This time, your friend shaking his head after the twenty-somethings say “we’ll get out the guns.”
What a scene, the mystic with the welcome table and the apocalypse wanna-be’s with the gun. And your friend with the maple syrup.
Thank you, Adam. Sometimes I find myself dancing between “living as if” and seeking to floor the accelerator all the way to the brick wall. I appreciate your example which shows a better way.
Thank you, Janie. The stories have work to do in the world and I'm more than willing, even if it risks pedestal-ization. The experience behind the scenes brings more humbling and disappointment than revelation.
You are totally right in your thoughts and they direction you're taking. I don't own land so I can't do all that but I do share food with a couple of my friends as I like baking cakes + pies. Like in the old days. I may be female but I don't want to be the CEO of a multi-national corporation like feminism preached at us for decades. I like baking pies. I think the also decades long proliferation of entertainments,"framas" about real life supposedly portraying it as full of shouty people betraying and attacking each other is done on purpose to train our minds to be suspicious of other people. In UK thankfully it's little caught on yet,sadly a bit but mostly not.
The man who last lived at this Farm was a bit of a hermit, from what I've heard. He died 20 years ago, and the place sat without human habitation for most of those years. One story that has come my way: Henry used to tap the grand old maples in the front yard, boil the syrup down into sugar, bake it into cakes and pies, and take them around to the old ladies in town. Thanks for your insistence on baking as a worthwhile activity. Adam
Hi there. I couldn’t help but think of Cormac McCarthy’s The Road, and there’s the choice there to carry the fire, rather than steal, kill and destroy. Mike, by shaking his head, is joining you in carrying the fire. Lovely piece, noble work.
We are learning neighboring in Northeast Minneapolis. It is different than friend making lime you say, though the two have sometimes overlapped for us. There are gifts, physical and countless intangible ones.
Beautiful writing, thank you. This connection of land, neighbors, food, sharing is so important in these times and helps, I think, to erase some of the cynicism and separation that have taken root in recent years. My husband and I have recently taken part in a farmer's market in our small town, and though we don't make much money, it is such a gift to meet neighbors, share food and sneak in a little extra when we can, talk about recipes and share stories. Such deep connection that we all seem to be craving these days. It was right there all along, we just have to step into it.
Adam,
I think something that is so remarkable about your writing is that it defies timelines. You write from your present and speak of times both future and past. It helps me to see everything in a more circular way which is so meaningful from where I am on my timeline. Thank you.
This is gorgeous, Karina. All of our diminished capacity for neighboring is just waiting for a bit of sunlight and a good soaking rain it seems. You've probably heard the question: "Is the seed the oldest part of the plant or the youngest?"
hey, we know some really authentic concrete guys too. The man who runs the business has a beautiful tough love way with his crew. He is practicing for the day we no longer have drug rehab centers, job training programs, or homeless shelters. He has one man living in an old school bus behind his shop, he helped another one buy a home, and he keeps peace among the lot. I imagine he could be a pirate captain in another era. He works for some of the "richest" people around because he is a house lifter and much needed for saving their historic new england homes and barns. His appearance is that of a really rough dude; but he knows his stuff, does top quality work, is kind, and wise. I feel bad for people who have no friends like him.
Oh my, let's practice for the day we no longer have nursing homes as well! This story really made me smile. Thank you for that.
Adam, words from the most recent Substack post by Gregory Pettys come to mind here: “I have found it a bit overwhelming recently, as I barrel through my 40’s, to realize that if I don’t start embodying the teachings of the wise ones, than those teachings will likely die along with my teachers.” Human hospitality and neighborliness seem to me like some of those wise teachings that will be lost with older generations if those of us within the middle generations resist embodying them. In light of that potential loss, practicing for the day grocery stores no longer have stocked shelves might well be one of the most distinct and accessible trellises of thought (to borrow from Elizabeth Oldfield) upon which to grow habits of living in the present moment.
My gratitude to you yet again for your willing commitment to gathering these stories and gifting them to whoever desires to hear them. I have a feeling the mundane weight of daily work within Sand River Community Farm has as much to do with opening wide a doorway for such stories to come through as it does with the land and beings with which you are building direct relationship. All stories of thriving require their tangible roots, their anchors in living. Thank you for tending to both the rooting and the telling of them.
These ideas, however beautiful they may be, will remain stillborn unless they are planted in real ground. The stories emerge as beautiful surprises once the idea-seeds have had spent some time in the moist dark underfoot. Thank you for leaning in and listening with me, Jan.
This was a beautiful response!
Your words move me to tears every single time. To see such kindness, such generosity, such community spirit which truly is I believe the heart of human nature. I am awed and inspired by everything you’re doing.
It's my specialty...granting to others the tears that often remain elusive for me. Thank you for this very kind note, Carly.
Adam, your depiction of the concrete man and his workers and you wondering how they see you, the Ivy-league grad, is wonderful and relatable. My college education did 0 to prepare me for life or work; both have put me in contact with many working class people. I’ve heard so many comments over the years about “those damned college-educated idiots don’t know nothing!” (And so often it’s true!) A tradesperson I spoke with told me of the disdain and disrespect directed at him by architects and engineers. This saddens me. I have nothing but respect and gratitude for the work these people do. Indeed, it is work most of the rest of us cannot live without.
Each of your pieces leaves me with one indelible image. This time, your friend shaking his head after the twenty-somethings say “we’ll get out the guns.”
What a scene, the mystic with the welcome table and the apocalypse wanna-be’s with the gun. And your friend with the maple syrup.
Thank you for your sharing.
Laurie G.
Gales Ferry, CT
Thank you for this beautiful note, Laurie. It means a lot. Adam
Thank you, Adam. Sometimes I find myself dancing between “living as if” and seeking to floor the accelerator all the way to the brick wall. I appreciate your example which shows a better way.
Thank you, Janie. The stories have work to do in the world and I'm more than willing, even if it risks pedestal-ization. The experience behind the scenes brings more humbling and disappointment than revelation.
You are totally right in your thoughts and they direction you're taking. I don't own land so I can't do all that but I do share food with a couple of my friends as I like baking cakes + pies. Like in the old days. I may be female but I don't want to be the CEO of a multi-national corporation like feminism preached at us for decades. I like baking pies. I think the also decades long proliferation of entertainments,"framas" about real life supposedly portraying it as full of shouty people betraying and attacking each other is done on purpose to train our minds to be suspicious of other people. In UK thankfully it's little caught on yet,sadly a bit but mostly not.
Hi Jane,
The man who last lived at this Farm was a bit of a hermit, from what I've heard. He died 20 years ago, and the place sat without human habitation for most of those years. One story that has come my way: Henry used to tap the grand old maples in the front yard, boil the syrup down into sugar, bake it into cakes and pies, and take them around to the old ladies in town. Thanks for your insistence on baking as a worthwhile activity. Adam
Hi there. I couldn’t help but think of Cormac McCarthy’s The Road, and there’s the choice there to carry the fire, rather than steal, kill and destroy. Mike, by shaking his head, is joining you in carrying the fire. Lovely piece, noble work.
We are learning neighboring in Northeast Minneapolis. It is different than friend making lime you say, though the two have sometimes overlapped for us. There are gifts, physical and countless intangible ones.
Thank you for holding up this flame.
Beautiful writing, thank you. This connection of land, neighbors, food, sharing is so important in these times and helps, I think, to erase some of the cynicism and separation that have taken root in recent years. My husband and I have recently taken part in a farmer's market in our small town, and though we don't make much money, it is such a gift to meet neighbors, share food and sneak in a little extra when we can, talk about recipes and share stories. Such deep connection that we all seem to be craving these days. It was right there all along, we just have to step into it.