Field Note: Living Inside the World As I Find It AKA Tending The Ground Under My Feet

I do not believe I am above the systems I participate in.

I use plastic bags sometimes. :(
I buy groceries wrapped in plastic packaging. :(
I work inside systems I did not build and do not fully agree with often.
I participate in economies, technologies, and structures that are imperfect, wasteful, and often deeply misaligned with my values.

I’m nobody’s soldier, and I will not be enlisted into defending systems or platforms as though they are extensions of my soul. I’ve lost friends and family to that sort of thinking. Watching them slowly erode and override themselves over the decades, until drinking or religion or politics became how they comforted themselves.

To me, the biggest danger is losing oneself inside ideologies, identities, and group loyalties until self-reflection disappears.

If everything changed tomorrow and aligned more closely with my values, I would welcome it.

Until then, here I am.

I do not think pretending otherwise is honesty.

What I can do is remain conscious even when uncomfortable. I’ve realized discomfort is where the truth usually sits witling away at her finger nails.

I can notice where my spirit contracts.
I can make gentler choices when I have the energy and ability to do so.
I can grow herbs in my garden.
I can cook more meals from what I already have.
I can lean toward less harm where possible.
I can support people when I am able.

I can slow down — enough to think about what I am participating in instead of moving through life completely numb.

But I no longer believe purity is possible. Never really did. I saw people mimic purity to judge others and it felt hard in my solarplexius —like a knot.

I think many of us are trying to survive systems we did not choose while carrying values that do not fully fit the world around us.

That does not make us hypocrites.
It makes us human.

We are born into tangled webs we did not weave.

There is wisdom, I think, in learning how to live consciously inside imperfection without collapsing into despair or self-righteousness.

I cannot fix the whole world from my gazebo.

But I can tend my little patch of earth under my feet.

I can grow basil.
I can feed people I love.
I can rescue the bee from the water when I see it struggling there.
I can create spaces that feel softer than the systems surrounding them.

And perhaps that is enough for one small human life. 🍃 That would be a great comfort if true.