Waiting for shmita

On the Jewish calendar, this is the shmita year, the agricultural "sabbath", when we are commanded to take a year off from farming the land. 

I've enjoyed the modern interpretations that have emerged this year about the sustainability of community and the concept of fallowness.  But I'm plagued with a practical question: what the heck did the farmers do while they weren't farming?

Earlier in my career, I knew and had the privilege of working closely with several professional farmers, and here's what I know - farmers are always busy. Between the actual work of farming, the paperwork of modern farming, the business deals, the equipment to fix, the side jobs to fill in the financial gaps - farmers work pretty much all day, every day. And while thousands of years ago they might not have had government paperwork, I can't imagine they were less busy.

To take people who work every day (or 6 days a week, maybe) sunrise to sunset and then, to tell them, stop? This isn't the modern day sabbatical.  Farmers weren't at home, wanting to write books or travel the world.  Their entire life and livelihood - everything they knew - was put on hold. So when told to stop, what did they do?

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I've worked since I was 16. It was the rule in my house growing up. Turn 16; get a summer job.  I went to school, or I worked. For the latter part of undergrad and all of graduate school, I did both. Minus one or two months when I moved, and two 12 week maternity leaves, I've worked consistently for the past 25 years.

Until a few weeks ago. Because at the moment, I'm unemployed. Or, "between things".

And honestly? I have no idea what to do.

I'm entering week 5 of my "shmita". Week 1: I was sick, in bed. Week 2: on a long planned and much needed family vacation. Weeks 3 and 4: meeting with people, networking, and, well, going slightly crazy.

That's not entirely true. I've also baked a lot. And exercised. And spent a lot of timing yelling at the dog (that's another post entirely). I chaperoned a field trip for my daughter. I've had some lovely lunch dates with my husband. I've read some great books.

But in between it all? I'm pacing around the house trying to figure out exactly what to do with myself.

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Time, without boundaries, is endless.  Perhaps shmita is tolerable because it is scheduled and has limits. Same with Shabbat. Once a week for 25 hours and it is over.  25 hours during which, by the way, I don't work, and also don't worry about what to do with myself.

Shmita literally means release.  I've spoken to many people who have had an experience like the one I find myself in now, and I've heard them speak of "release" - of expectations, limitations, baggage. I'm not there yet.

I'm guessing that as soon I know when my personal shmita is ending, I will be full of things to do. Projects around the house; friends to see; blogs to write.  Release will be easier with an end date.

In the meantime, here I am, slightly fallow, waiting for the soil to renew, hoping for the growth that I have faith will come, baking, talking, walking, and wandering. This is early shmita.