Face the Frustration - Part 1

It's been a while since I posted here, since I'd felt that there was ABSOLUTELY NOTHING I had done in the past four months worth writing about. No pictures of harvest, no wet nosed cattle, bupkis outrageous things done 'worthy' of the blog title, and if I could rewrite the blog address, facethepalm.blogspot.in

Recently, with the help of several Brené Brown quotes and one of Jennifer Lawson's books, I realised there was an overlooked, relatively non-existent section in the sustainable, growing one's own food narratives present on our timelines and news inches :

The narrative of how farming and being a farmer feels like applying for the position of coffin tester.

Of course, from the perspective of the majority of the farmers feeding this nation, the narrative is spot on. But from the accounts of - 'young couple, quits job, starts farming, helps community, earns goobleydooks p.a' - you rarely get to read 'young couple, quit nothing, drowning in self-loathing, hits McDonalds for Minions Happy Meal toys, orders extra fries even though one of the meals comes with fries, the idiots.'

My bookshelves are peppered with Minions and dog hair

I'm glad that I have finally found a reason to share the experience of waking up feeling like an enthusiastic pile of mall pavement manure, struggling to stay hopeful and bursting with microbial nutrient, for when the time to start growing forests and restoring wild boar habitat finally happens. I hope sharing these experiences of the hopelessness which one's supposed to convert as patience, will let others know, that they're not alone when they find themselves stumbling in the sunny fields of Mordor.

On a side note, the reason so many of us don't share this side of our stories is because we're constantly under threat of those who will point and say, "I told you farming is not a good field..-pun? what pun? This is your problem you don't listen. I told you that you will get nothing from all this farming nonsense." To them, I am learning to follow this,

 and also this,

Furiously Happy is one of the best things you can buy for yourself!

So here's part 1 in a series of posts speaking out about the supposed nothings along with the everythings which have happened and continue to happen as Mani and I stubbornly stick to pursuing
this thing we want to do. Starting with, why I can't seem to label what it is we do : 

Organic Farmer Impostor Syndrome

For a while now, every time Mani and I speak to people about what we do, we're landed with the question,

"So you're doing organic farming?"

And we'll answer with,

"No."

Followed by an awkward wrestling of guilt for the discomfort we're going to cause in speaking our bleak, brutal truths.

We can't honestly tell people we're 'organic' because our land, regardless of whether its borders are lined by deep mud trenches or covered by an Asgardian Shield, can't be protected from the noxious pesticides, herbicides, fertilizers and agricultural officers abounding in every field around us.

Take for example, the pools of water we try and save on our land by painstakingly digging water harvesting structures like trenches. These are in an instant, completely contaminated when our neighbours decide to spray their fields with aerosol herbicides or when excess water overflowing their fertilizer ridden fields pours into our land.

In some circles, having one's very environment filled with harmful substances is labelled as 'environmental pollution'. There's enough research to make it strikingly obvious to anyone with an ounce of intelligence how massively dangerous this is. But using the term 'pollution' feels trite in our collective conscience, because it's a word and lack of feeling that's bandied about with face wash and 4th std E.V.S lessons.

Which is why regardless of the fact that Mani and I don't use industrial agrochemicals but practice methods of natural farming on our land, we can't bring ourselves to say we're 'organic'. With the environment this polluted, 'organic' feels like a blatant lie.

'Not sustainable enough!'

Given that when I'm in the city I order home delivery from restaurants of non-organic origin, stay in a household which gets its groceries from the same local provision stores it has for the past twenty seven hundred years that doesn't give a damn about 'sustainable produce', indulge in the sacrifice of climate change causing broiler chickens for some Sweet Corn Chicken soup, I feel like a hypocrite and a fraud for wanting to bring myself to the table which discusses sustainability and conservation.

Sarah's Scribbles showing it like it is

What place does a person like me have in a conversation about our environment?

Me, the hypocrite using tick removal shampoo on her dog while bashing the government and its agricultural officers for promoting pesticides.

I have realized that if I were to wait to elbow my way into the sustainability narrative till I become the perfect person practicing perfect sustainability with a freaking halogen lamp on my head, it's going to take till I'm dead. "Ah buried in this Earth, with maggots in my brain, I am finally contributing and being 100% organic."

Yes, I'm sustainably flawed. Yes, I don't want to live in a boxed mud hut on the land, 'surrounded by nature'. Yes, online food delivery is enabling my emotional binge eating and promoting disposable plastics. Yes, I still buy Good Day Chocolate Chip biscuits regardless of its aluminium packaging. Yes, I order from Amazon with the wilful ignorance of the real costs of shipping.

But I am not alone. This is a lot of us on the privileged scale. If we're going to take ourselves out of the equation because we're not 'organic' enough, we're doing a huge disservice to ourselves and to Michael Jackson who told us to make this world a better place for you and for me.

It's hard and it leaves us drowning with our demons who paint a pointless picture, but Mani and I have learned to accept our 'not good enoughs' and try and move forward anyway towards that dream of tending to a food forest. Even if it involves a freaking Happy Meal along the way.

Borrowing Thor from Gamma Collectibles to make a point