Friday, April 17, 2015

A letter to Isa

I want to write this post to let Isa know: we thought a lot about when to bring you into the world, and why.

After college and before graduate school, I spent a lot of time travelling. These were the most formative experiences of my life. They taught me about how people around the world live, how I am capable of living, and how I'd like to live the rest of my life. I learned about how little resources or material comfort I can get by on, and how much I appreciate those comforts when I can get them. I learned how most people in the world live much closer to the earth, and that Americans are so alienated from all those things that keep them alive: growing food, getting water, noticing the birds and the bugs.

We go to these jobs, get food from the store, and put our kids in the care of others. Why not cut out the middle men and provide for myself? It helps solve several problems: I get to spend my days teaching my children, being outdoors, providing my own food, and limit my environmental impact.

Once I decided that this was my plan, and then I met Papa and he agreed, it was time to put the plan into action. But how? Where? We talked about everything: our hopes for an ideal life, what the future will look like, where we can be safe. We considered the following when thinking about where to settle: climate change, arable land, potable water, a stable water table, political and economic stability, lack of resources (look at the places that have oil - not where one would want to live), universal health care and education, language spoken, culture, isolation. We wanted to live in a place close to a big cultural capital, but far enough away that no one could come raid our land in times of trouble. We want to live within biking distance to a small town. We wanted to live close to some fresh water. We want healthy soil that can grow a lot of food. We wanted a place that wouldn't get too affected by climate change. We wanted to find somewhere where we could speak the language and wouldn't stand out too much (where there is some European descent). We wanted a place where we could be politically active and it would make a difference. We want a culture that is slower. People that can understand why one would want to live off the land.

Then we found Uruguay. We went there, hoping it was what we hoped it could be. And it was. Tranquilo (relaxed), beautiful agricultural land, close to fresh water, next to Buenos Aires, stable, European, within biking distance to a small town, it has universal health care and education. AND we could afford the land. We met a real estate agent, bought 9 acres, and haven't regretted it for a minute.

Now, how do we plan to build the house, move to Uruguay and have some sense of stability? We are, after all, city kids without a clue as to how to live off the land. We aren't going to do what the hippies did: all philosophy and no skills, they starved in the first winter. We wanted to get higher degrees, so that we may be more desirable candidates for citizenship (or at least permanent residency). We also needed to save enough money not only to build a house and buy tools, but with some savings to live off of until we got good at agriculture. We bought the land in 2012, and plan to move in late 2016 or 2017.

Now, here's where you come in, Isa girl. In this interim time, when we're working toward this future, I felt like I wasn't growing much. Despite earning my PhD, I felt like I was teaching my professors, rather than them teaching me. Certainly I learned some technical skills for how to conduct research, etc. But, as far as pushing the boundaries of what's possible, I brought in all my ideas from my travels, and learned very little from grad school. I wasn't growing much, and I couldn't imagine sitting still for these years and waiting for time to go by. I needed growth, change, a challenge, a new era.

After Papa and I bought the land in Uruguay, we laid in bed on a farm where we were staying a few miles away. And we talked about you. I was having dreams of having you. These dreams were so vivid. In them, I would be giving birth and you were being put into my arms. Or, I would be sleeping with you on my chest. Then, I would wake up and worry about where you went. Panicked, I would realize you don't exist yet.  We had the land, we had a plan, now we needed you. We needed to learn how to care for someone other than ourselves. So, we decided to bring you into the world.

We have learned so much from you in these past 21 months. We've learned how to laugh more, and be kind more. We've learned how to get out of our own heads, and into the present moment. We've learned to love, and be caught off guard by happiness we didn't see coming. But, we've also learned how messed up it is to have a child in this country. How isolated it is, how difficult. It has made us even stronger in the conviction to live off the land in a different country. For you and for us.

We're working hard everyday to make this happen. Not only to move, but to learn how to do it right, with stability, and to bring some good people along. We want to build a community of learners, doers, thinkers, and artists. We want to build the village, from the adage "it takes a village." Making this life right is not easy for us. It's been so difficult to be patient, work hard, and live poorly so we can save for this future. It's been hard being in limbo, not quite yet living the daily life we want. It's been hard facing the difficulties, the instability of American life and economics. But each day you make it easier and more worthwhile.

I guess it goes back to the poem at the beginning of this blog. From the very beginning, we bear you in mind. We consider your future in every decision we make. We only live one life, better make it the most fantastic adventure you can imagine. Thanks for coming along.

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