April 7, 2010 @ 11:49 am
Seeds of Life
Serving Ourselves Farm, Long Island, MA (22)
I’ve been to Shutter Island. Nope, I am not kidding. I have visited the island on which this box office hit was based. Leo was out for the day but the experience was incredible nonetheless. After heading south accidentally and landing in downtown Boston during morning rush hour, we turned around as quickly as possible, and after moving through hundreds of cars, we left the hustle and bustle of the city and traveled roughly ten short miles to this island. With water on all sides, the bridge connecting the two was long. With clouds crowding the ground, and the echoes resonating from below, it was hard to deny the eerie nature of this drive, so eerie that at one point I doubted the direction we were currently following. Ahead, there were two men allowing access to the island (not creepy at all…rolls eyes) so we stopped to verify and indeed, we were correct. I couldn’t help but wonder what our final destination would bring but soon, my curiosities were put to rest. We had finally arrived.
Outside, the sky was thick with air, so very thick, that admiring the city required a vivid imagination as it was unrecognizable from our current platform. The industrial architecture made for a mysterious setting. With windows that stretched from floor to ceiling, the various reflections caused my eyes to jump from side to side and my feet to move more swiftly. Honestly if someone wanted to create the perfect haunted house, they may want to consider reserving some acreage on Long Island. Seriously, at any moment I was wondering when Michael Myers and Freddy Kruger were to make their cameo appearances.
While I must say the surroundings were somewhat daunting, my reasons for visiting the area were not. Serving Ourselves Farm is a 4-acre, organic vegetable, flower and herb farm that not only provides over 30,000 pounds of its homegrown goodness to the residents of the homeless shelter on the island, but it introduces job-training to individuals, homeless individuals who may otherwise not been afforded the opportunity. Each person would acquire the necessary knowledge needed to maintain all aspects of the produce created. The land cultivation, planting techniques, harvesting and marketing of the product (for the 15% of the crop sold in local Farmer’s Markets to raise funds for the program) teaches skills valuable in obtaining a job, a job that would enable one to once again become independent.
Shortly, we would be met by Erica who would be escorting us for the day, and I was ecstatic, and quite relieved, when I saw her truck appear. After quickly exchanging pleasantries, we’d arrived at the chapel, yes the chapel, for our day of planting seeds. Immediately entering into the room of worship, it was dark, with only a hint of the stained glass light from outside making the pulpit and pews distinguishable. Though no longer reserved for prayer and meditation, the essence of its past remained unusually powerful.
Working alongside the sanctuary, I’m sure the area once encouraged great philosophical arguments as members sipped black coffee and nibbled on homemade crullers. These days however, it was reserved for a different purpose, planting and housing seeds that would eventually transform into nourishment, nourishment for the body and the mind. From tomatoes to squash, my fingers covered in soil, seeds were dropped, covered and pressed deep into the earth that surrounded them. I was absolutely having a blast planting these seeds, but was ready for a slight change of pace when I saw they were making the soil that would eventually be used for the planting trays. I was all over this. My sleeves were rolled, dirt was flying at my face and as we poured more and more water into the massive container I couldn’t be happier. I felt like I was really working, you know, hard work.
So anyhow, this didn’t last long and we were off to the greenhouse to deliver our trays. Well apparently, a monsoon decided to hit the outskirts of Boston, and as Erica and I opened the door to the house, the wooden planks once used as walking paths, were floating on the ground. While I felt really badly about their hard work now floating away, I was having so much fun running to and from the truck, grabbing as many trays as possible each time. I’d focus on not falling (how eloquent I’d appear then), hop on the back of the truck, pull the pieces forward, grab and run. My feet were sinking into the soil and my hair was dripping water, but somehow we managed to arrange the trays quite successfully, torrential downpour and all.
Near the end of the day we walked through the shelter. Few people were still around as with morning approaching, residents left the island, I assume spending their days seeking jobs, maybe friendship, possibly looking for the answers as to how they arrived at their present situation. During those moments, I was sad. I was sad that it sometimes seems that no matter how much we try, we can never rid the world of loneliness, sadness, hurt and reality. A blanket draped over a chair, by itself, waiting for its owner to return. Had it comforted a young girl who’d run away from home, or was it wrapped around a man’s shoulders for whom life had become just too difficult? The stories were unclear, the reasons varied, but help was undeniably needed.
As we traveled the bridge back to the city, my feelings were completely different from the morning. The air was lifting. I wasn’t scared, I wasn’t spooked, and while somewhat heavyhearted, positive that the mission of this farm would improve the lives of many, temporarily for some, but permanently for others. Some would simply enjoy the comforts of a soft bed or hot meal, while others would fully take advantage of the opportunities that would bring them one step closer to self-sufficiency and self-respect. Regardless, all would see the importance of the way we treat one another and ourselves. We must fight to constantly be better, do better regardless of the way we are viewed by society. We must focus on who we are as individuals and make the changes necessary to contribute to who we are as a group of people. This farm provides a small seed, but from that seed grows something much bigger than the obvious. Fellowship, brotherhood and personal satisfaction encourages one to push boundaries and reach beyond his or her initial goals to a place once unfamiliar. We can be great, we can all inspire, and eventually, in serving ourselves, we’re certain to serve one another.
Note: To Ashlee, who constantly makes my life a vacation
