Sweet Work

Welcome to a Hit of Hope, and this one is a teeny bit salty. I could have an affair with a cornfield. You think I’m joking, but I had to drive back to my hometown this weekend, and it is located in southwestern Minnesota, which is corn and bean country.

Transcript

Wherever you are, Take a deep breath in. Whatever is going on around you, Let your breath go. Inhale. Exhale. Take this chance to center. Inhale. Exhale. Welcome to a hit of hope. I could have an affair with a cornfield. You think I'm joking, But I had to drive back to my hometown this weekend, And it's located in southwestern Minnesota, Which is corn and bean country. As I drove through the rolling fields, My insides sighed with pleasure, A pleasure I haven't felt in a long time. All I wanted to do was put on my hiking boots and walk amidst the stubble until I ended up in Montana. My journey to my hometown began in the dark. As I drove through the fields, Huge combines combed the earth, Looking like a herd of cyclops. They had a bright and shining eye as they harvested the abundance of corn. This bounty would then be poured into the grain trucks and semis that were lined up like big matchbox cars along the edges of the fields. When those trucks were filled to the brim, They would drive to the nearest silo, Waiting their turn to add the contribution to the pile of corn that rose like a golden mountain on the prairie. The work started early and would finish late, For the crop would rot if the work was not done. Driving in those fields was another reminder of something I've been pondering lately, The idea of sweet work. I began thinking about this when I learned that the incredible guitarist Eddie Van Halen had died. What many noted about him was how much joy he had as he played his astounding riffs. While other guitarists seemed to have to work hard and furrow those brows to get those sounds out of their guitars, Eddie smiled that shit-eating grin of his and his eyes shone, Just like the lights on the combines. As you may know, I teach yoga, And one of the luminaries of yoga is B. K. S. Iyengar, Who might have had a hand in convincing folks that doing yoga meant turning your body into a pretzel. The shapes and postures that man could take seemed to defy gravity and possibility. And yet there he was, Not only in the posture, But looking absolutely at ease in the posture, Like he could hold it till kingdom come. He embodied two of my favorite concepts in yoga, Sthita and sukha, Which have been translated as steadiness and ease, Or in other words, Sweet work. But Betsy, You might protest, It's easy to get overwhelmed by the work of adulting, The to-do lists, The demands, The limited resources, The crushing repetitiveness. Oh my God, The dishes again. That is not sweet work. Whether it's harvest or moving or washing dishes or getting taxes done or doing vinyasa, Work is work. What matters is the mindset we bring to it. Do we clench and bemoan? Do we furrow our brows? Do we swear? Do we avoid the work because we are too afraid? Do we show up? Do we soften our eyes? Do we smile at those around us? Do we cut ourselves some slack and try again? Do we try new things? Do we dare to meet our work with a shit-eating grin and bright eyes, Delighting any and all around us? It's up to us. I mean it. It is really up to us. What might happen if we begin our day, Our week, With the idea of sweet work? What might that do to us and for us? How might that change how we greet our lives? Inhale. Exhale. Have a great day doing your sweet work. Namaste.

Reviews

Funny!
Thank you Betsy!

Combine harvesters, Eddie Van Halen and yoga - love it! X

My view on work... be thankful for the fact that you can do it, even if you don't want to. There may be a day when doing even the simplest of jobs is physically impossible. I hope that never happens to you but then you'll wish you could moan about doing the dishes or the laundry or taking out the rubbish. Be extremely grateful you can do sweet work, it's very bitter indeed when you can't. Thank you Betsy, you always see the other side of things. Namaste 🙏🖤

I've been away from most new releases of late, needing to rely upon old tried and true practices to see me through some turbulent patches. It is 1:15 am right now, and getting ready to sleep, I was feeling a bit homesick. Today, you see, is my birthday, and though there is a family Zoom call scheduled, it's not the same as actually being there. I saw you'd put this track out again, so I thought I would kick the new year off with a voice of reason that sounds an awful lot like family. And then I read the description and that your hometown is in SW MN. I hit play on the track, but I admit I was not able to pay much attention as I pondered where in SW MN it could be. Marshall? Cottonwood? Ballaton? Redwood Falls? Starbuck? Mineota? Dawson? Clarkfield? Perhaps near Garvin Park or down by Jasper? Benson? Lac qui Parle? Even Big Bend maybe? Pure speculation, I suppose.

I had first thought of sugar beets when I read the title but quickly discounted that since that's more a Brainerd/Moorhead/Bemidji/NoDak thing - or at least, it seemed that way during all those long trips back to college campus, swerving to dodge sugar beets falling off the back of the trucks ahead of me.

I started off homesick but feel less so now. Memories of my summers on the farm, learning how to pick the sweetest corn for dinner without getting lost in the cornfield, AND how to shuck and de-silk each ear in record time, eating sun-warmed sweet peas right off the vibe when sent out to pick some for dinner, riding out on the trailer and catching the bales of hay as they were bound, then tossing them up to my uncles to stack neatly as we bounced across the stubbled fields in the prairie rose-scented soft summer air....

I heard some of what you said about work as I was lost in my reflections. Your comments about Eddie Van Halen's joy in his work made me think back to the F-M area and my college days, when in the course of discussing Aristotle and Epictetus, the admonition to play the role you were given to act upon the stage that we call life, and play that role to the best of your ability was uttered frequently and in a variety of ways. One classmate said, "So basically it means 'Bloom where you are planted?'" Not exactly, no. But a good start.

It is no secret to those around me that my work of late has been somewhat troublesome for me for a variety of reasons. I was very much considering what my other options might be, in fact, and I have taken steps to improve my situation already in other areas...but work remains pretty much the same, alas.

So I listened to this HoH. It sounded like something my grandfather would holler at me over his shoulder as he drove the tractor, or after shooing me and my cousins away from the combines as they chugged on site and into place. It helped with renewing my sense of connection to my family, but also -perhaps more important at this specific point I'm time - it helped me step back and consider what joy my work used to bring to me, and when/why/how it disappeared. As well as ways to get it back.

I may not be tossing bales or shucking corn, drying the cobs, or tending to the harvesting of the garden goods these days, but I can still find ways to bring back the sweetness into my work.

Only now I'm fantasizing about a hot, freshly boiled ear of corn, rolled in butter, eating blissfully as melted butter dribbles down my chin. I might find some at the store to have with my birthday meal, but I doubt it. My favorite Icelandic pancakes are the star of the brunch anyway (if my husband and kid can locate the cast iron griddle to make them without my mother hovering over them to supervise, that is - she told me to pass word that she'll be available for calling or texting or whatever in case they run into difficulties).

So nothing seriously profound here today, except gratitude from the bottom of my heart for the reminder of making my work sweeter to me personally, but also for that almost visceral level trip into my childhood memories. What a wonderful gift! Thank you so much for sharing this, Betsy.

I see you and the light within you, always. Be well. 🤲🏻❤️🤲🏻

EDIT: Cobber '96 here, Betsy, with an extended minor in Philosophy. 😁
My parents and brother are also Cobbers, '70, '71, and '01. 🌽❤️

Grandparents and others on Mom's side have been in/around Cottonwood for decades. I do a lot of genealogy down in that corner and also in certain areas of IA and WI. 🥰

will certainly try the sweet work approach. Anything will be better than the crushing soul draining misery mine is to me at the moment.