BLESS YOUR UNEASE . . . it's a sign there is still life in you.

We've dubbed this summer, 'the best summer and worst summer ever'. To explain, Dan and I (Tay) chose to spend the summer months living in a trailer that we fixed up in our backyard. Many of you might not know that for the past few years I've been working on another good food business - opening up a small brewery. After Dorothy and I had such resounding success with Good Food Jobs, I figured it was only natural to create another meaningful food related venture. How different could it be? 

The answer: TOTALLY different.

Instead of partnering with my dear friend (female), I'm teaming up with my significant other (male). Rather than an online enterprise it's a brick and mortar operation. While GFJ was a lean startup using minimal capital, a brewery requires a healthy investment in real estate, equipment, and permitting / licensing. And with GFJ we entered into uncharted territory, giving lots of flexibility for improving on an existing model. Breweries, on the other hand, are highly regulated by the federal and state government, and leave less room for interpretation.

And then we upped the ante. When our lease was up last May, we decided that, while we fixed up our permanent living accommodations, we would spend the summer 'roughing it' in a trailer that we found on Craigslist.

In many ways, we are very blessed - we have a lovely space, a warm bed, electricity, internet, and access to fresh water. In other ways, it's been a challenge - no hot water, working bathroom, or climate control. It's akin to semi-permanent glamping, if you will. 

It's been an adventure, to say the least. It is at once the best summer and the worst summer ever.

We've never spent so much time outdoors, so many nights under the bright moon or by the warm fire, admired so many sunsets, or had the motivation to seek out local swimming holes quite so frequently (nature's bathtub). As a habitual over planner it's been a worthy exercise in being a bit more spontaneous. And there has been a pleasure in the simplification / streamlining all of the 'stuff' that surrounds us.

But it does not come without it's challenges. Some days are simply uncomfortable. Hot, sticky, and downright inconvenient. Or that time when the awning came crashing down in a rain storm at 3 am. Or when that cute dog that loves to lay on your bed suffered from incontinence, necessitating several weekly trips to the laundromat. And when things are frustrating or stressful or uncertain in other areas of life or business, the lack of comforts only exacerbate things.

And in particular, while the limitations of the kitchen can be fun (Dan always appreciates flexing his 'cowboy cooking' muscles, working solely on the outdoor propane burner and/or charcoal grill - and I love the thrill of making ice cream al fresco), the inconveniences (namely taking about 6 times as long to wash dishes and working without a proper oven) means that I just haven't been cooking that much. I recall when we were moving in how my Mom expressed worry that I wouldn't be able to cook as freely and easily as I like to. I assured her it would be fine. But it appears she knows me better than I know myself. It turns out that cooking holds a special place in my soul. Not only does it nourish me physically, but it provides a deep sense of value and pleasure that contributes to my overall health and well being. In short, I desperately miss it. Marge was right. 

Is it easy? Absolutely not. Has the experience been worthwhile? Wholeheartedly yes. The 'best summer and worst summer ever' will otherwise be known as 'the summer that we will never forget'. 

Challenges - when temporary - can teach us a lot.

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We live in a culture that overwhelmingly prioritizes comfort. Whether it's physical comfort (in the form of convenient indoor climate control, technology at our fingertips, or increased access to whatever we need / want at any given moment) or emotional comfort (a desire to avoid conflict, limit pain, and be in a state of real or perceived bliss at all times). While we can appreciate these advancements and the freedom from constant struggle, we've also been wondering, 'what we are missing?' 

Struggle, after all, can lead to some of the most valuable experiences and ideas. Constraints can lead to creativity. Hardships can ultimately build confidence. And challenges can create much needed community.

So we are curious - what exactly can we learn from challenges? 

Last Friday, August 28th we started our beta GFJ Challenge. We've dubbed this particular exercise a 'home cooking cleanse': 30 days, no eating out. Our goal was to have a group of 10 people participate so that we can work out the kinks for larger groups that participate in future challenges (which might range from technology fasts to vows of silence to hand writing letters).

Five days in, we're already learning a lot. We'll be compiling all of our experiences and wisdom and sharing it over the course of the next few weeks. But in the meantime, here's one person's take on why she decided to participate:

In a nook of my heart somewhere, I am longing for community. By way of airmail, internet, or —gasp— in person, I long to be surrounded  by outsiders-turned-insiders. Friends. I’m surrounded by my wonderful family in a rural place, a practically bygone lifestyle, but I want to find the activists, advocates, and general do-gooders that make my world go 'round. Maybe through this challenge I'll meet some of you.

We don't anticipate that these small challenges will singlehandedly change the world, but we do think that breaking our routines - and getting uncomfortable every once in a while - can cause subtle shifts in perspective that can have a larger ripple effect. And the best outcome that we can anticipate is for people to bond over shared experiences. There's no more powerful feeling than knowing that you are not alone.
 

May you experience the intensity of both pleasure and pain, surrounded by a community of people that understand and support you.  
 

   Taylor & Dorothy
   Co-Founders, Good Food Jobs