Leap Before You Look

In addition to making the awesome apple pie above, a friend of ours, Jonathan, made a New Year's resolution to memorize poems and recite them, whenever and for whomever possible. Last week, he spent all day on a five-course meal which he prefaced with this poem in lieu of a blessing.  It has given us a lot to think about:Leap Before You LookThe sense of danger must not disappear:The way is certainly both short and steep,However gradual it looks from here;Look if you like, but you will have to leap.Tough-minded men get mushy in their sleepAnd break the by-laws any fool can keep;It is not the convention but the fearThat has a tendency to disappear.The worried efforts of the busy heap,The dirt, the imprecision, and the beerProduce a few smart wisecracks every year;Laugh if you can, but you will have to leap.The clothes that are considered right to wearWill not be either sensible or cheap,So long as we consent to live like sheepAnd never mention those who disappear.Much can be said for social savior-faire,But to rejoice when no one else is thereIs even harder than it is to weep;No one is watching, but you have to leap.A solitude ten thousand fathoms deepSustains the bed on which we lie, my dear:Although I love you, you will have to leap;Our dream of safety has to disappear.-- W. H. AudenI sure hope W.H. Auden was a wise man. We have a lot riding on this kind of thinking and I am nervous he was just some crackpot risk-taker who died from a fall because there was no net.The initial excitement of shaping this dream in our heads, of giving it a name and a place to live online and sharing it with all of our favorite people has now passed. And in it's wake is the crushing weight of reality. I feel like I just woke up from an all-night inspiration bender and now I'm dealing with an epic hangover of practical considerations and second guessing. Where are we actually going to get a billion dollars from? I take pictures for a living and I like health insurance, how greedy and impractical am I really being? Did I really just drunk dial all my friends and tell them I'm going to be a farmer?!Oops... Hi everybody!Right. So it isn't really that bad. It is probably more like 50-50 inspired/hungover.  But I can't escape from a feeling that all of you probably share but have been far too kind to tell me: We're being a little naive.  Here we are, two happy people who are beyond blessed in life and in love with successful careers that many people would trade for in a second.  Where do we get off thinking we could wring even more meaning out of life by tearing all that down and rebuilding it again?The part of me who has heeded Auden's advice in the past and knows risk taking can pay off - that part of me says no, we're not being naive.  I have learned that listening to my heart, practicality be damned, has helped me make some of the most important decisions of my life.  It is that part of me that I credit for my current career as a photographer.But there is also another part of me that says wait, you have got to be kidding.I can remember bouncing around the photo department of my first internship at the Asheville Citizen Times with the same level of excitement about photography as I have been pouring into these thoughts on farming.  In an effort to get me to shut up, a more experienced photographer said to me, "You know, when you eventually get a job as a photographer, you'll have to get a new passion."Of course, I dismissed him immediately.  My mind was so full of pictures and possibility that I couldn't fathom ever needing anything else in my life.And here I am 10 years later with a great job - and low and behold - less of a passion.  In some respects, he was right.  By making a living out of a sacred pursuit I have mixed it up with a lot of other non-passions - book keeping, self promotion, nightlife photography - all the things you have to do to run a successful business.So am I now looking at farming in much the same way?  Do I risk bastardizing the passion and mission I see in growing food and living closer to the earth, by trying to make a business out of it?  And at what cost?  I can't imagine sacrificing our current jobs, lifestyles and happiness only to get to the other side and realize the view was better before.Not to mention the biggest open ended question of all - will I actually like and find meaning in the day-to-day, hands-in-the-ground work of farming?  I really don't know.So maybe we are being naive.  But I think I'm okay with that.  Naivete and a lot of balls will get you places.  It is working through all this in front of you thats makes me blush a little bit.Thanks for listening and supporting despite your concerns for our sanity.  We're committed to living this experience out with you - life as performance art - ups and downs included.  Just don't take us too seriously.  Yet.