There’s something about playing in the dirt that I find staggeringly calming. That feeling of digging my hands, ungloved, into the soil, arising caked in a thin layer of mud, fingernails blackened. And when, in the heat of the sun, I forget that my hands are coated and unconsciously brush the hair out of my sweaty face, spreading dirt all over my cheeks and forehead. Now that is what I call relaxing.
Am I crazy? Perhaps. But I don’t really think so. What I really think is that whether admittedly, secretly, or even unknowingly, many people have the exact same reaction to dirt. For me, playing in the dirt reminds me of what’s real. It reminds me of breathing, and life, and things that grow. I suppose that when entirely covered in soil, I seem to remember that I am, quite literally, connected to the earth. And I remember exactly why it is I do the things I do.
For instance why, when I could be traveling the world, or working a “normal” 9-5 schedule with weekends off, or utilizing my (way to expensive) college degree to find a job that actually pays, I have instead decided to drop everything and move to a foreign part of the country to embark upon the monumental task of starting a conservation corps program and organic farm?
‘Why’ can be a complicated question, with complicated answers. My ‘why’ has been sculpted and re-sculpted over the course of several years, shaped by many incredible experiences and beautiful people. The idea for the Smoky Mountain Corps didn’t just arise out of nowhere, though once Sean and I set it in motion, things have come together almost comically fast. The dream has, in fact, been bouncing around our minds since we met four years ago, and perhaps, a hazier vision even longer.
When Sean and I met in 2011, as members of a residential conservation corps program in New Hampshire, we spent a lot of time talking about dreams. What we hoped to see in our lives, in our communities, in the world. We talked about where we came from, where we were, and where we hoped to go.
For my part, I had just graduated from Tufts University with a BS in Environmental Science and American Studies, whatever that meant. I had enjoyed college for all it was, but I was ready to leave the bubble behind. I was sick of all talk and no action…I was ready to go out and change the world! Only problem was, I had absolutely no idea what to do. So, while my friends had all gone off to join the corporate world or attend medical school, I went to work at summer camp. That was wonderful. There is nothing like spending a summer tasked only with entertaining children, singing silly songs, and of course, playing in the dirt. Nonetheless, after two glorious months of pretending not to grow up in the breathtaking mountains of Colorado, I still had absolutely no idea what to do with myself. So, after about seven minutes of serious consideration, I did what any young idealist would, returned to Boston, took a job at a beyond awful Italian restaurant, and poured myself into an unpaid internship with a social justice organization. Unfortunately, an unpaid internship, while meaningful, can only get you so far in this world, and after a few short months of barely scraping together the rent check, I knew I had to figure something else out. Anyway, I missed the woods. I missed the fresh air. I missed the dirt.
Thus, in January 2011, I found myself wobbling my car along a rocky dirt road, slowly making my way into the state park where I would be spending the next year as a member of something called a ‘conservation corps.’ I had no idea what was to come, or that this adventure was to completely alter the course of my life. For the next year, I lived in a cabin in the woods with 29 other corps members, completed many technical and leadership trainings, and performed environmental education and conservation work in schools and on public lands. My experience changed everything. It challenged me in so many unexpected ways. It taught me how to use a chainsaw, how to cook for 35, and how to make a splint out of a crazy creek chair. My conservation corps experience brought me profound friendships, unexpected love, and a real understanding of community. From it, I began down the path that would ultimately take me here, to Southeast Tennessee, at the foot of the Smoky Mountains, where, along with Sean, I am about start a brand new corps program of my own design.
I can not explain how overjoyed and grateful I feel to be given this opportunity. I have been dreaming of this for years…for the chance to take what I believe in and make it real, to give the next generation the tools to succeed in this confusing world, to learn that there are in fact, many definitions of success.
Of course, occasionally, when I am hit with an overwhelming “OMG what we have gotten ourselves into!?” And a “holy moly, look at this todo list!”, and a “what do you mean this grant application is 18 pages long?!” it is incredible how fast all that can slip my mind.
And that is where the dirt comes in. All told, the dirt between my fingers, that is what helps me remember…why I am here, what I am doing, and why it matters.
We broke ground on our first produce garden recently, and I couldn’t be more excited. Tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, zucchini, squash, eggplant, green onions, carrots, black beans, corn, and all sorts of herbs. All organic and chemical free (though I did spray a homemade concoction of lemon juice and garlic the other day to keep them mildew free…actually worked pretty well.)
Any new garden is always a question. Will anything grow? Will the plants produce? Will all this be worth it? For now, all I can do is wait, work, and watch. We’ve just broken ground on the Smoky Mountain Corps, and who knows, perhaps before too long, something wonderful may sprout from the dirt.
-Heather
PS: Please help support our efforts to make the Smoky Mountain Corps a reality! Follow our fundraising campaign here: http://igg.me/at/smokymountaincorps/x/7941132
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