By Cathy Hird
Worry. We all worry. Worry can drive us to take risks. Worry can paralyze us. Or we can learn to release the expectations and plans that make us dissatisfied with this moment. I also think that worry can help identify real concerns and lead to change. Take the experience of farmers, for example.
Last week as holiday traffic headed north on Highway 10, we slowed to a crawl behind a huge tractor hauling a triple set of discs. A pickup truck with flashing lights followed, but city drivers showed their impatience by passing precariously. This was a hazard for farmer and traveller. I am sure that the highway was the only path between one field and the next that needed to get worked up.
Later that evening, I was on the road at dusk and passed two more tractors pulling cultivation equipment. These farmers had stayed to finish as much field work as they could and ended up heading to the home farm later than they should have.
Farmers are putting in extra-long hours this spring because of worry. Last fall, rains kept the combines out of the fields, then snow came. Much of the corn did not come off in the fall, and a lot of beans got snowed on. And beans won't stand up to weather the way corn will. After the fall's losses, farmers had to combine the corn in the fields before starting to cultivate for this year's planting.
Most land did not get worked last fall. The whole cultivation process--plowing, disking, cultivating, stone picking and planting--will have to happen this spring. Farmers are feeling way behind in their work. Someone took a chance and plowed a hay field last week (the sod really needs to be turned over in the fall so that it has the winter to rot).
There are some hopeful signs. Spring grain is not only planted but sprouted. But in order to get all the land ready, farmers will put in long hours tilling and planting to try and catch up with the season. Then, we wait for moisture and heat in the right measure, sunshine in October for harvest. After the last two years, we'll worry that snow could come early.
This year, and maybe every year, farming feels like a fight. We fight with equipment breakdowns. We fight with market fluctuations. We always have to work with weather, but with climate change taking hold, it feels more like a fight.
We can do preventative maintenance on equipment--grease and oil are a big help--but wear and tear and Grey County rocks will cause things to break. We can pay attention to regular market cycles, but because things like corn and soy beans are international, the weather in Brazil can throw off the cycle. And no one can do anything about the weather we will have this summer and fall. So we worry. And push hard, sometimes taking short cuts, sometimes working late. When we do, we risk an accident.
When worry takes over, we can work at letting go. Worry can also function as a clue.
The principal of an agricultural college in Zambia that the United Church works with has a sign in his office: "Climate change is here. How will we adapt?" Farmers world-wide are starting to wonder what unpredictable shifts we'll have to accommodate. At the same time, our whole community is encouraged to change our life style, to shrink our carbon footprint. Weather worries can press us to shift the way we live.
Worry about market fluctuations can cause us to throw up our hands--we have no control over production in Brazil--or we can become more politically alert and pay attention to trade practices and food policy.
And as we plan each day, we can pay attention to what is possible as well as what seems necessary. We can plan in a way that attends to safety and the need for rest.
Anxiety is not helpful. Worry can be debilitating. When there are things we can't control, we need to learn to let go of what drives us. But sometimes worry can highlight things that need to change and prompt us to engage our culture and our politicians to make these changes.
Cathy Hird is a farmer, minister and writer living near Walters Falls.
