If you think you won’t find clarity while farming, urine for a surprise
“Salud!”, we chuckled as we “clinked glasses” in a garden shadowed by the colossal mountains of the Sacred Valley. Our glasses were dented plastic containers and our “libation” was glorified pee. Purin, it’s called. It’s pee from the dry toilet that sits in a big barrel and is mixed with organic plant matter, over time fermenting into a stanky stew that makes a GREAT natural fertilizer. The plants love it. And we love plants. So we bear the unavoidable smell and dish it out liberally to the thirsty lettuces.
As I quenched the arugula’s thirst for nitrogen, I found myself with an emoji-like half smile (you know the one) thinking about the people in my life that would enthusiastically grab a cup o’ piss and join me in my odorous task and the many more that would roll their eyes or raise their eyebrow in confused wonder at the fact that I seemingly traveled hundreds of miles to squat in the dirt and pour pee on plants (and occasionally my foot).
I felt a huge rush of gratitude. Gratitude for the immense variability in the human race. Gratitude for the diverse interests and aptitudes we each possess. Gratitude that I could be the one to pour the pee on plants. Gratitude that my mom could be the one to actually listen to someone for the first time in their life. Gratitude that my dad could be the one to stare at a magnified smattering of skin cells and make sense of them. Gratitude that someone had the patience to tinker with a filament until it ignited with light. Gratitude that someone else figured out how to harness the wind to propel a vessel. Gratitude for every person who has done and is doing the highly esteemed and seemingly invisible jobs of the world. I just squatted there, eyes a-glazed, and basked in appreciation.
A few years ago when I was in the midst of my university-fueled mind expansion, I was so hyped on what I was studying. My environmental studies and international affairs dual major with a minor in social entrepreneurship was worth the breath it took to pronounce and explain because I was convinced it was the way. THE WAY. There was so much work to be done in the world, and the toolbox to change was suddenly clear. How could people justify doing anything but this? Everything else is secondary. We’ve got work to do! Commence worshipping Muhammad Yunus and start a highly successful triple-bottom-line social business that will solve all the words problems and be wondrously challenging and fun to manage. Go!
I look back on this mindset now with the gentle skepticism and patient understanding of a learned parent to their overly enthusiastic tunnel-visioned child. I envision a super-meta scene of me patting my younger self on the head and saying “you’ll understand when you’re older”. Someday, you’ll understand that the man who quits his job to take care of his dying mother has a task just as important as the woman who fights for the rights of forgotten indigenous communities. The woman who draws up draft after draft of the intricate blueprint for a new bridge has a task just as important as the man hammering in its nails. Someday, maybe we will all understand that there is a brilliant synergy of the world that has much more to do with one’s intention than it does with one’s job title.
I salute you and your efforts, whatever they may be. You can count on me to pour the pee.
