For the Romance of It

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g down below your heels, and the livestock are getting out.But that’s the ratio of real life.We live in an era where it’s possible to live vicariously through someone else’s pictures, words and posts. We confuse ourselves into thinking that we don’t have to go out and live something to know what it’s like. We can simply follow that Instagram account, read that blogger, or join that Facebook group. But we also live in an era where it’s possible to carefully curate your life to strangers you never meet in person.Those two possibilities, of someone being able to curate their life to thousands, while those same thousands live vicariously through them, makes the siren song of romanticism impossible to resist.I blame the modern era for this, but that’s not really fair. We saw the same thing in the in the 1800s when early settlers of the American west would write back to the East Coast, boasting of the riches and adventure that could be had if they came westward.It was easy, they said! You’ll be a hero, they said! Then these well-meaning East-Coast travelers would fall victim to disease, weather, or some other condition they just weren’t prepared for. All because of romanticism.If you’ve ever seen the TV series Deadwood, you’ll know that the character Brom Garrett fell victim to this with some pretty unsavory conclusions. If you haven’t seen Deadwood, make it your next Netflix binge.The danger of romanticism is not just Dysentery. In this day and age, it will keep you from learning, growing and trying new things. If we fall victim to the romantic version of farming, starting a business o

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r being a writer that’s carefully curated by the internet, we can get discouraged when we make our own attempts to try that thing. We fool ourselves into thinking it will be easy and romantic and, when it isn’t, we get frustrated and discouraged.Don’t get me wrong, romanticism has it’s place. I follow a few surfing Instagram accounts because I find the pictures inspiring. I like the idea of being lithe and powerful in the water. Feeling balanced and harnessing waves with ease.But I know I’m indulging in a romantic fantasy. Maybe someday I’ll live somewhere where I can surf every morning and do what it takes to get really good, but it’s not a priority right for me right now. I know that I’m more likely to take a few surf lessons in Florida every few years, wipe out A LOT and be anything but lithe or balanced. I’m perfectly happy with that, because I don’t want to be good at surfing that badly.But if you want to learn how to do what you’re interested in, and truly do it well, take what you see curated on the internet with a grain of salt. Look for ways that you may be romanticizing what you see, and look for ways that the author may be romanticizing it for your and their ego’s benefit.There is no substitute for real life experience. If you want to become a land steward and farm, you need to get out and do it. If you want to start your own business, you need to do it. If you want to learn to surf, you need to get out and do it every day.At some point, we all need to stop following, liking and reading and go out and do the thing. Or at least admit that we’re just indulging in romanticism otherwise.</article></body>

How the Internet’s romanticism is keeping us down.

My co-worker Jenni and I have an inside joke. If we’re working together and something is truly terrible (we’re hauling feed to the pigs in knee-deep, boot-sucking mud, or it’s blowing 30 mph and raining sideways, or the four-wheeler broke down for the third time that day…..) I’ll look at her and say, “For the romance of it!”

It’s a joke that started from an Instagram post I saw once, where the photographer had gotten his off-road vehicle stuck DEEP in the mud while feeding cows, but out in the jaw-dropping gorgeous landscape of Montana or somewhere.

For the romance of it.

There are plenty of people that romanticize farming, ranching and taking care of the land. I’m one of them. The idea of spending your days growing your own food, getting soil on your hands and underneath your fingernails, feeling one with the planet and stewarding the land to its full potential…..it’s alluring.

But for every 75 degree summer day you spend pulling perfectly straight carrots out of the ground in your Patagonia overalls, there are roughly five days when it is pouring down rain, your socks keep falling down below your heels, and the livestock are getting out.

But that’s the ratio of real life.

We live in an era where it’s possible to live vicariously through someone else’s pictures, words and posts. We confuse ourselves into thinking that we don’t have to go out and live something to know what it’s like. We can simply follow that Instagram account, read that blogger, or join that Facebook group. But we also live in an era where it’s possible to carefully curate your life to strangers you never meet in person.

Those two possibilities, of someone being able to curate their life to thousands, while those same thousands live vicariously through them, makes the siren song of romanticism impossible to resist.

I blame the modern era for this, but that’s not really fair. We saw the same thing in the in the 1800s when early settlers of the American west would write back to the East Coast, boasting of the riches and adventure that could be had if they came westward.

It was easy, they said! You’ll be a hero, they said! Then these well-meaning East-Coast travelers would fall victim to disease, weather, or some other condition they just weren’t prepared for. All because of romanticism.

If you’ve ever seen the TV series Deadwood, you’ll know that the character Brom Garrett fell victim to this with some pretty unsavory conclusions. If you haven’t seen Deadwood, make it your next Netflix binge.

The danger of romanticism is not just Dysentery. In this day and age, it will keep you from learning, growing and trying new things. If we fall victim to the romantic version of farming, starting a business or being a writer that’s carefully curated by the internet, we can get discouraged when we make our own attempts to try that thing. We fool ourselves into thinking it will be easy and romantic and, when it isn’t, we get frustrated and discouraged.

Don’t get me wrong, romanticism has it’s place. I follow a few surfing Instagram accounts because I find the pictures inspiring. I like the idea of being lithe and powerful in the water. Feeling balanced and harnessing waves with ease.

But I know I’m indulging in a romantic fantasy. Maybe someday I’ll live somewhere where I can surf every morning and do what it takes to get really good, but it’s not a priority right for me right now. I know that I’m more likely to take a few surf lessons in Florida every few years, wipe out A LOT and be anything but lithe or balanced. I’m perfectly happy with that, because I don’t want to be good at surfing that badly.

But if you want to learn how to do what you’re interested in, and truly do it well, take what you see curated on the internet with a grain of salt. Look for ways that you may be romanticizing what you see, and look for ways that the author may be romanticizing it for your and their ego’s benefit.

There is no substitute for real life experience. If you want to become a land steward and farm, you need to get out and do it. If you want to start your own business, you need to do it. If you want to learn to surf, you need to get out and do it every day.

At some point, we all need to stop following, liking and reading and go out and do the thing. Or at least admit that we’re just indulging in romanticism otherwise.