sing it, barbara

i am barbara streisand's "people who need people."

why can't i get a job where i have a hundred meetings a day? i love talking with people. i love planning. i love organizing. i love sitting in a coffeeshop for 20 minutes before my volunteer/colleague/friend arrives and thinking, thinking, thinking. there has to be a job where you can do this sort of thing.

i read wendell berry's piece in the newest issue of sojourners and felt my heart echo his love for farming. of course, i've never farmed. but my dad grew up on a farm when he was a kid, so i figure some of that farming life has got to be running through my blood.

of course, farming isn't really what you might call a "people" job. unless you live on a co-op farm with lots of people. perhaps if i do move to wisconsin, i'll join the benedictine women of madison. that seems like it'd be a good way to make a smooth transition to quasi-farming culture.

and if that doesn't fit quite right, i'll move to minneapolis and join the staff at youth forum and run summer festival's entire summer camp. that would be amazing.

or ... my friend annie told me last night that i really should avoid the [perceived] utopia of certain midwestern cities and answer my calling to politics by speaking up in larger public squares (she says this because she thinks that if we were to team up and teach the world about really living, that maybe things could possibly get better). i told her i felt i should first study in a land of progressive thought and open discussion before i would feel comfortable speaking on anything in such venues. she agreed, her hands wrapped around her cocoa quietly acknowledging an allowance for a few years of research. but she quickly looked up and caught my eye, and said, "don't forget where you belong."

oooh, mysterious. i laughed. fine, fine. if it's farming, or writing, or playing and planning, or politicking, i think i'm game for whatever. as long as there are people.