I was a little over two years old. Standing in an open field in the Orting Valley, golden grass floating around me, a big weathered barn somewhere nearby. I didn’t have words for it yet. But I felt it. Forty years later, I’m still living toward that feeling. by Chad
I was a little over two years old. Standing in an open field in the Orting Valley. Golden brown grass floating around me in the gentle breeze. The wind whispering just enough for background noise – peaceful sounds. Standing there, small, in my favorite flannel and jeans. I can’t remember if I was wearing shoes, but I can remember the feeling of fall, the warm sun on my face, the sheer beauty of the blue sky. I felt comfortable, like time was standing still. Old fencing went in each direction – almost like you could feel the vision the old farmstead we lived had for the land. A big barn somewhere nearby. Weathered, greyish brown, but strong and beautiful. This is where I felt peace amongst the chaos.
In 2019, I sat among 5,000 people at a Tony Robbins event – eyes closed, working through a guided memory exercise. Go back, he said. Find your first memory of peace. I didn’t expect much. What came up was a field. Golden grass. A big, weathered barn. A little kid in a flannel who didn’t know enough yet to be afraid. I came to tears. Not because it was painful – because it was so clear. Because I’d been carrying that image my whole life without knowing it.
The memory of chaos has been in my life longer. Before the memory exercise at the event I remember living at a house in Milton. A brick house with a dog outside and a front door I was afraid to walk into. Inside that front door was my mom’s boyfriend’s drum set. I remember being so afraid walking into that door and into that house. Like this strange man would hurt me if I did something wrong. I was scared I might get yelled at or worse. I didn’t feel safe. I didn’t like going in that house or opening that front door. Outside, there was a dog tied up named Cola, barking and mean looking. I eventually made friends with Cola…I eventually learned to ride my bike there.
The brick house was one of my earliest memories until the memory of being in the field with the barn. Curious, I wanted to see how old I was when we lived at that old farmhouse in Orting. Could this memory be real, could I really remember those feelings and images so clearly at age 2?
This past fall on a 5 am grape pick, I’m alone, in the dark, waiting for the boys, Jeana and the crew to show up and I stop. I stop. I stop to think – wow, we get to have our own farm.
Peace, belonging, purpose. Whether I’m laying in bed or walking through the farm, or hosting guests – those feelings I had that day, that vision standing by that barn – holy crap, it’s been with me for 40 years.
