The Part I Play

What's on my mind?

“How are you complacent in the very thing you say you want to change?”

I read that question in a book, and it has stayed with me. I find myself repeating it often.

It’s uncomfortable. Probably because it doesn’t let me stay in the easy place of complaint.

I’ve noticed I have very little patience anymore for conversations built around what everyone else is doing wrong. I don’t need another person telling me what “they” should do. I want to know what you are doing. What do you believe? What are you changing? What part are you willing to own?

Which, of course, brings the question right back to me.

At Iowa Worm Farm, I don’t have to look very far to find examples. I can find them inside the work I’m trying to build and inside the way I’m trying to live.

I say I want less waste.

I say I want healthier soil.

I say I want fewer unnecessary inputs.

I say I want stronger local systems.

I say I want to support locally owned businesses.

And still, I contradict myself.

There are parts of my life where I do pretty well. My family collects food waste and other organic matter. I don’t put synthetic fertilizer on my lawn. I spend a lot of time thinking about local waste systems and how things people no longer want can be turned into something useful again.

Then I’ll turn around and order something online when I know I could buy it locally, simply because it is more convenient.

That’s the part I play.

It doesn’t make me a hypocrite beyond repair. It makes me human. It means the work is real. It means living in alignment with your values is not a slogan. It’s a practice.

And practice means I won’t get it right every time.

One of the most common things people say to me about Iowa Worm Farm is, “How can I help?”

I love that question. I appreciate it every time. I appreciate every order, every share, every conversation, and every person who tells someone else what I’m working on.

But my honest answer is often smaller and less exciting than people expect.

Figure out how to reduce waste in your own home.

Compost if you can. Collect food scraps if there is a way to do that. Pay attention to what you throw away. Be more conscious when making purchases. Buy local when you can. Look at your lawn differently. Look at your soil differently. Start with one habit.

I say that as much to myself as anyone else.

Because it is easier to support an idea than it is to change a habit.

It is easier for me to believe in local systems than to interrupt my own convenience.

It is easier for me to talk about waste than to notice every place waste still exists in my life.

It is easier for me to talk about building a better way than to patiently build that better way one small decision at a time.

Again, I’m not saying this from above anyone.

I am in it too.

The number one issue I have with the way I currently do business is shipping products around the United States. I struggle with it. I don’t want to do it. At the same time, I don’t want to limit my ability to sell things or grow the business.

Shipping is relatively cheap. It is easy. It works.

But part of my mission is to keep things as local as possible. To reduce the amount of fuel spent moving things around unnecessarily. To help build local systems where organic matter can be collected, processed, and returned to the soil close to where it came from.

So I have to sit with the tension.

I want Iowa Worm Farm to grow. I want to sell products. I want people to experience the value of worm castings and living soil. I also want to be honest about the fact that shipping soil amendments across the country is not the purest version of the mission.

That doesn’t mean I stop tomorrow.

It means I stay aware.

It means I keep asking better questions.

How do I grow without drifting away from the reason I started?

How do I serve people outside my local area while still encouraging them to find or build local solutions?

How do I sell a product without making the product the whole point?

Because the bigger mission was never just to sell worm castings.

The bigger mission is to help people see waste differently. To see soil differently. To see convenience differently. To see the places where the systems I complain about are also systems I continue to support through my daily habits.

That is not an attack.

It’s an invitation. And the invitation is aimed at me first.

I don’t think the goal is perfection. If perfection is the goal, I’ll quit before I start. The goal is awareness. The goal is to notice. To become conscious of the little contradictions. To stop long enough to ask, “Is this aligned with the way I say I want to live?”

Sometimes the answer will be no.

Then I get to decide what to do with that information.

Maybe I change the behavior.

Maybe I accept the tradeoff.

Maybe I admit that I am not ready to change yet.

Even that feels more honest than pretending I have no role in the outcome.

As Iowa Worm Farm continues to grow, I want to practice what I preach. I want to be part of the change I say I want to help create. I want to live, learn, share, and show people that another way is possible.

Not a perfect way.

A more aware way.

A more local way.

A less wasteful way.

A way that asks me to look honestly at the part I play.

That might be where real change starts. Not with a giant announcement. Not with a perfect system. Not with waiting until I can do everything right.

Maybe it starts with one uncomfortable question:

What part do I play in keeping alive the very thing I say I want to change?