Show me the ugly!
The realities of life, and if we welcome them in.
I think this is a really important conversation to have, and I’ll unpack it in the context of the farm experience and then relate it to life in general…
Living on land and trying to make a self-sustainable lifestyle is heavily romanticised in our culture today. Popularity in cottagecore, gardening and herbalism has skyrocketed in the past few years, as an homage to simple living in a world of exhausting complexity, disease, and over-convience. I love that humans are moving (back) towards this , and I don’t think it’s an inherently ‘bad’ thing to idolise these lifestyles.
I do, however, think that this romanticizing can lead to harsh reality checks and consequences if the full picture isn’t foreseen in accompaniment with the idyllic lens. I’m guilty of it. People in my circles are guilty of it. It’s just part of the story in navigating a new experience. It’s a natural part of ‘looking elsewhere’ for solutions to the conundrums of the modern world.
Last week, two friends came over for a cuppa on the verandah, their first time out to the farm and seeing this side of my life (that not many people see). Of the many things we touched on, we discussed how messiness is inevitably part of this lifestyle, especially when trailblazing with little money or skills to begin with. You see, we live a life where unfinished projects lay discarded, where the ghosts of failed attempts haunt our minds. Tasks take a lot longer than we anticipate (always). Dirt and cobwebs and grass inhabit our home as much as we do.
This used to bother me. A lot. Initially, I tried to translate my comfy, city-dwelling lifestyle to this rural one. I didn’t allow a changing of the guard to come through– a change of my expectations. I had to yield my views on how one goes about completing tasks, because often, unforeseen circumstances would come through to knock down any plans I had made. Like cows getting out of the property, water running dry, or crossings flooding over.
I sat with this notion and was drawn back to the cliché that messiness is simply a part of life. Maybe I hadn’t expected mess to be so loud in the country, but I see it as a lesson that I needed to reckon with eventually.
Whatever life you live, I’m sure there are parts you try to hide because you see it as ugly, unsettling, or not in rhythm with the rest of your aesthetic. A draw of crap at the bottom of the cabinet. A photo you retake because there’s something in the background. A pimple you cover up.
Seeming imperfections that we all like to think we welcome. In the past few decades we have seen a huge shift towards inclusivity of all lifestyles and choices, yet there’s still this undercurrent of doing that lifestyle right. Are you even spiritual if your house isn’t full of crystals? Are you even a homesteader if you don’t wear pretty dresses in the garden?
I wear a singlet and Jordan’s sports shorts in my garden. Each to their own!
Of course, there’s a caveat here that we are all valid in wanting some things to be neat and succinct, and I see it being relevant for me in business, cleanliness, or for sanity. But the manicuring of every facet of our lives can be destructive.
For me, it doesn’t speak truth. And it’s terribly exhausting. Comparison is the thief of joy (Theodore Roosevelt), and selecting only the ‘perfect’ parts of ourselves to show the world can also take our joy. Perfection is just not in us.
In my experience, it’s actually a huge relief to drop the charade and sit in both the messiness and beauty. It can be a very obvious, tangible way of choosing yourself. It can also be a wonderful way to witness your dialogue on perfectionism and external validation…
However, in my experience, in practice this where it becomes challenging. I’ve struggled with it in moments of nervous system overload, tiredness, or on my really low days. It’s then when you want things to be in neat boxes. To be in order, to counter the disorder we experience.
How can we welcome in the mess?
For me, it’s a practice of prioritising my time and energy. If I spent all day doing the things that I think need to be done, I wouldn’t have the space for the things I want to do. Or the space to simply rest.
This is something especially relevant for me now– I’m not working a ‘job,’ I’m not guiding yoga classes, I’m not planning for the future. In the unknown, it’s easy to fill the gaps of silence with things that need to be done, and it’s a constant practice of remembrance… does it really matter? Or could I embrace the ugly and find peace within the mess?
Social media can be conflicting… and I can suggest taking time away from your phone if feeling overwhelmed by the mess.
Nature can be my biggest comfort. The forest isn’t clean or neat. It’s wild, layered, messy. You can never feel suboptimal in the forest or swimming in the waves.
A shift to focus on gratitude and abundance can also help refocus. This doesn’t always come through easily for me, but when remembered occasionally it can shift my attention to the gifts I have in my life. Again, it’s a practice.
I’m finding with this greater insight that I can move forward with the things I actually want to do. A restructure of my energy output and priorities breathes in more space for play, rest, and easeful productivity.
This all may seem obvious to some, but for me it’s life-altering. If I’ve been navigating this, surely someone else is too?
Your experience is valid.