On embracing discomfort
You might be interested to read my latest interview on ‘living the good life’—embracing discomfort and pursuing meaningful activities while preserving our planet—and it got me thinking about my time in the Swiss Alps.
Looking back at those days, boy, did I enjoy working in the garden to create a haven for bees, butterflies, and for my family. Writing for GstaadLife—with the aim of trying to bridge the gap between the locals and the “chalet guests”—satisfied a purpose of adding value to the community.
Regarding the preserving planet part, however, I used to cringe at the way farming was evolving and what my grandfather Werner would have have said about it were he still alive.
Having grown up on a small farm and being the son of a dairy farmer, Werner was the kind of man who would rise at dawn—before his regular job as a lineman for the electric company—to put in a few hours cutting grass for a friend. A neighbor once told me that ol’ Werner was one of the last of his kind, those traditional farmhands who were able to cut grass expertly using a traditional scythe, and who had the legs, endurance, and balance to do so for hours on steep inclines.
If Werner were still alive, I’m sure he’d shake his head in dismay at the modern factory-type farming, characterized by huge tractors, mechanical hay threshers, blowers, and by the use of weed killer. He’d rage against the large, free stall barns— requiring the cutting of cow horns—that have led to an increase in the number and density of animals sharing space and to the collection and spraying of slurry on the fields.
Rising obesity, hay fever, respiratory problems, and dandelion monoculture, and not to mention carbon emissions, are some of the effects. All of these issues arise out of avoiding discomfort. But who am I to talk? I don’t farm.