This is a piece about “The Good Life” written by one of the 2022 MBE cohort, Felicity Jacobs, as part of their graduation project.
Watermelon has taught me a good life, amongst other things.
As winter draws to an end, the first green hints of spring burst through the melting snow all around. Signalling a time of birth and new life, it is time to plant the first seeds of watermelon in the greenhouse once again.
Soon we work transplanting them in the fields, flanked by mountains, marvelling as the snow recedes ever so slowly further up towards the peaks, inch by inch, day by day. Until at last the remaining snow disappears, a green blanket covering the mountains all around.
Amongst the increasing pull to be ever-connected, ever-consuming, it is within each of us to pay closer attention to the joys of daily life as they unfold, day by day.
The first hint of summer days brings nostalgia for those gone by, electrifying for the soul. As the heat intensifies, day by day, watermelons start to pop in abundance on the vines. The groundwork was laid months ago now. We’ve watched them grow from nut to tennis ball, tennis ball to football. Yet nothing prepares you for the pure delight of smashing the first watermelon on the ground to drink its pink nectar.
As the sweat drips down my face, my body crying out for a break, a sudden appreciation that daily life is our life overcomes me. Amidst all the broader struggles, experiences and goings on of our inner and outer worlds, each day curates the story of our life.
Family has taught me a good life, amongst other things.
Life is shared and celebrated in the garage of the farm, the good and the bad. A home not only for the tractors and tools, but for the family, for the team. A place of shelter, rest, replenishment and connection. All the conditions for a good life.
Our daily work is hard and long yet rewarding. The messy, tattered garage is convivial and sacred. Every slice of watermelon cut, each mochi inhaled, is cherished. Gratitude abundant.
Four generations coming together under one roof, we experience family as a verb. Day after day, swapping news and stories, food and drink, sitting on milk crates and patched-up couches, generosity and love is conducive to greater generosity and love. Community is built slowly, genuinely and deeply. Friendships are strong and nurtured, not fleeting and forgettable.
Mountains have taught me a good life, amongst other things.
Everyday for two years I walked or ran through our village to witness her beauty. By daylight and moonlight, ever-present, yet ever-changing with the seasons.
In summer, we hiked to her peak through dense, humid jungle. In winter, we trekked on our skis a few metres above where our feet would have trod, the trees long covered by snow.
On one particular autumnal day, ascending the four hours through thick, heavy clouds felt impossibly slow and laborious, the mind brooding and encumbered.
Until we popped out, suddenly, to witness her golden peak, strikingly beautiful in the sharp, shining sun above. Equally as breathtaking, catching sight of the sea of white clouds below, stretching out like a blanket as far as the eye could see. We were just in that.
A few other mountain peaks were visible in the distance, triangles bobbing above the cloud line. A sweeping clarity broke through to the soul. Mountains are as changing as they are present and strong, as unforgiving as they are giving, as tumultuous as they are majestic. Much like life.
To experience this is to experience the emergent magic that life presents. Life is conducive to life. And the good life sits within us all.
