They Take Care of Me Too

What's on my mind?

The worms became a symbol

Here’s the part I didn’t expect:

The worm farm became a symbol of my current life.

I take things others see as waste—things at the end of their usefulness—and with some work and process, we transform them into something beautiful that nourishes and gives back.

And it changed the way I think about everything.

From the time I was 19 years old and called myself a “professional salesperson” up until a few years ago, I studied human psychology and anything I could find to learn how to get people to do what I wanted.

To extract.

What I see now is that extractive relationships extract from both parties. Even if one person ends up with more, both sides feel less than in the end.

When you move from extractive to regenerative, that’s when everyone gets to benefit. Everyone gets to feel whole.

Relationships become less about taking and more about becoming. And that goodness overflows into abundance.

The ending I keep coming back to

Taking care of yourself is important, but I’ve always found it easier to take care of others first.

I think about the worms.

My farm in the office is 100% reliant on me. If I don’t take care of them, they die. And somehow that responsibility—small and constant—has been good for me.

When I left the farm, I wanted to stay. I’ve always wanted to get back there. For years I told myself that someday, if I made enough money, I’d buy a farm and return to it.

What I never considered was that farming could be smaller than that.

The worm farm—taking “waste,” caring for living things, building something regenerative bucket by bucket—that’s the farm.

So yeah. I’m proud to say I’m a worm farmer.

I take care of trillions of living things… and in a strange way, they take care of me too.

Where could “regenerative” look smaller—and more doable—than you’ve imagined?

Field Notes - Part 3 of 3.