Hi friend. I’m mindful that sharing personal stories can feel out of step when so much is happening in the world. I never want to seem tone deaf or indifferent. On the contrary, I’m often deeply consumed by the state of our country. But here, I try to create a space for reflection, creativity, lightness, and even a little humor—because we need that, too.
“I’m proud of you for saying yes to life.”
That’s what one of my dear friends said when I told her I learned how to drive a tractor this week.
It happened on a visit to my cousin April’s farm, Fletcher Roots. And if I’m being honest, it was kind of scary.
We climbed into the cab—perched high above the earth. April’s face turned serious as she walked me through the controls: how to start it, how to shift into low and high gear, how to manage the clutch and brakes, how to operate the giant arm-thingy that pokes and lifts hay bales.
It was a lot.
I thought mastering the finicky four-wheeler that morning was an accomplishment—especially after I accidentally ran over a stretch of barbed wire and promptly wrapped it around the rear axle.
That panicked me a bit.
Was the ATV ruined? Would we have to hike back across the cow pastures? Would April’s husband, David, come home from his construction project and see that this helpless city slicker mangled his machine? Oh Lord. I’m in trouble.
But that was just mental chatter.
April, unbothered, pulled a pair of thick gloves from the ATV’s basket and calmly untangled the wire while I stood there under the judgmental gaze of two dozen cows, who—with the slow swish of their tails and the flick of their ears—seemed to be telegraphing to their calves:
“See that one? She’s not from around here. You can tell by the way she’s standing there.”
Judgy gals.
Anyway. April fixed it and our Day In The Life Of A Farmer resumed.
But the tractor was a whole new level of seriousness—and April made sure I understood that by starting her instruction with a story about her own near-death tractor experience.
I’m sure I looked like a deer in the headlights. April practically had to shove me into the driver’s seat.
But you know what?
By golly, I drove that tractor out to the field and back.
Yes to life.
That’s what these past two years have been about:
Saying yes.
Being in a trusting, committed partnership with Life itself.
Trusting its intelligence.
Committing to its flow.
Partnering in its endless act of co-creation.
And as a result, I feel happy and free.
Not because life is easy—it isn’t.
Not because the news is good—it definitely isn’t.
But because I’ve become practiced at living in the now.
And I’ve developed the belief that whatever unfolds next is in service of my growth and evolution.
My cousin Jamela is another living example of what more is possible.
She can help labor and deliver babies during the day and renovate her home at night.
She can mend her daughter’s softball uniform during the week and hunt down a buck in the woods on the weekend.
There’s nothing she can’t do. It’s remarkable.
Aren’t women amazing?
My Arkansas cousins have a whole different set of life skills—and I’m having fun learning from them.
It’s easy, once we “know who we are,” to stay in the cozy lanes we’ve built for ourselves.
To stop learning new things.
To tell ourselves we’ve earned our comfort, and now it’s time to simply enjoy it.
And while there’s truth in that—we deserve joy and ease—I think part of what makes life worth living is continual growth and expansion.
And that only comes from saying yes to the unknown.
Yes to fumbling our way through something new.
Yes to moments that make us feel awkward and out of our depth.
Yes to climbing into the seat, grabbing the wheel with shaky hands, and driving anyway.
Yes.
Yes.
Yes.
~ Linzi
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Six Stops, One Ancient Answer
What the I Ching taught me about political tension, curiosity, and writing across difference.
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