Will’s World: Meaning of life discovered on Wrexham farm
© Richard Stanton I’m about to claim something that’s groundbreaking in the extreme. So if you’re not already sitting down while reading this, you may want to pull up a chair.
Humans of every civilisation have contemplated and debated it for thousands of years, and have never answered it conclusively, but in a moment of absolute clarity a few nights ago, I solved the age-old question: “What is the meaning of life?” That’s right, me, a middle-aged tenant farmer from Wrexham. Put that on your moussaka, Aristotle.
See also: Farm Doctor: How to spot signs of poor mental health
About the author
Doubtless the world’s media will want to talk to me about this, so please direct all enquiries to my agent, the present Mrs Evans. I warn you, though, she drives a hard bargain.
Being human
Before I enlighten you, I’ll explain how I came to be pondering the question in the first place. The truth is that I haven’t felt great mentally for a while.
It isn’t any single event that’s caused this, but more of a steady accumulation of things that have led me to feeling generally overwhelmed and exhausted by life.
As we all know, things aren’t easy in farming at the moment, and I’m concerned about how we’ll get through it.
Extreme weather, high interest rates, record high inflation, labour shortages, poor grain prices, pointless red tape, clumsy and ill-thought-out policy – these things don’t exactly add up to a restful night’s sleep.
I fear for the future of our communities, and no matter how much I’m trying to remind myself not to worry about things I can’t control, it’s weighing heavily on my mind.
On top of all that there’s also the perennial challenge of trying to balance farming and family life, and the nagging feeling that I’m getting it all wrong.
I know I’m trying my best, but is that good enough? Perhaps bolder changes are required.
Lately I feel like I’m spread so thin that I’m constantly letting someone down, and I know from previous experience that’s not a good place to be.
Social reboot
The difference to when I’ve felt like this before is that I’m aware of it and am actively working on improving the situation.
I’m confident that I’ll be firing on all cylinders again soon and, having just spent the bank holiday weekend with my best friends from Harper Adams days and their families, all camping at our place together, I’ve already felt the load lighten a little.
It’s an annual event where we all get together at each other’s houses in rotation, and this year it was our turn again.
With 10 adults and far too many children and teenagers to count, it was always going to be organised chaos. But that’s farming families for you, and we all mucked in.
Amid all the riotous activities and revelry, though, a few important conversations took place that helped me see things a little more clearly.
None of it particularly enlightening or profound, just close friends sharing and listening to each other’s problems and offering a welcome shoulder to lean on.
Late on the last evening, I deliberately took myself off and sat down by the campfire with a beer in hand, so I could watch and listen to them all laughing and having a great time as the music played, and it was then that the great philosophical revelation came to me.
This is it, I smiled to myself, these moments are what life is all about. Recognising them, being present in them, and seizing hold of them for all they’re worth.