Every Form of Refuge Has Its Price

I was cleaning stalls and thinking about another Our Way post when I heard this line from the Eagles’ song. And it struck me. Yes, every form of refuge has its price. Find your solace where you will; in consumption, in fantasy, in escape, in travel, in a sense of self-importance, in excuses, in money in the bank, in debt, in a lifetime of poor choices, and it all has its price.

Now, I’m not saying that this life, on the farm, our way, doesn’t have its price. What I’m saying is that it isn’t a refuge. What it is, is a haven. Peak oil might get my motor running because of the potential world wide change, but it isn’t why we do what we do. We did this long before that. We aren’t running away, we are moving, steadily, toward. We are embracing. We are choosing. This is what we want.

I was off the farm for a few days recently, something that has become exceedingly rare. So rare that when I got home my youngest child said, “Mom, don’t go sleep in the car anymore,” and I had to explain to him that although I had gone in the car and had stayed away for two sleeps, I had not in fact slept in the car. I tagged along to a horse show which has to be absolutely the most oil intensive thing but I had a real good time and so there I am on that one. It was only in my grandfather’s day that horses were real and every day, and that is something that I hold on to.

B on bit
Originally uploaded by Contrary Goddess.