The Opposite of Rancor

The Opposite of Rancor
The Facebook algorithm shows the individual user content that is curated to upset the
user. The angrier you are, the more you will return to the site to interact with your enemies,
the more ads you see, the more money Facebook earns by your repeated time investment
and your anger. We've been subtly trained to find delight in our dissatisfaction. And so, we
practice bitterness without awareness. The bitterness does not alter the behavior of those
with whom we disagree; bitterness changes us.
Last season I grew some red romaine in our hilltop garden. It looked gorgeous, but it
tasted like milkweed. The plant protected itself from its climate. It was our first season. I didn't
realize how quickly the warm southwest wind was wicking moisture from the soil, even in
early season cool weather. I know now. I have to irrigate more than most of my gardening
peers to prevent bitterness in my lettuces. Berms and other windbreaks need to be built or
grown to maximize the potential of our growing spaces.
And that's how it goes with bitterness. To cure it, one must play a long game of honest
observation, short-term work-arounds, and long-term solutions, which are built over seasons,
not days. It seems more of us are willing to be dishonest in observation, or perhaps that's the
algorithmic message Facebook uses to target me to arouse my own fomenting discontent.
We are, perhaps, too willing to accept bitter lettuce. Too willing to electronically cloister
ourselves with the sour who share our brand of indignation.
The Garrettsville Farmers' Market was our garden's first exposure to the public. We
were well-received, not because we were experts but because the market itself was a
miniature triumph. A community agreed to meet at a specific time in a specific location to
support its members and spend a nice evening together. The market is the opposite of
electronic communication. (Can anyone get cell service in Garrettsville?)
The market is not a homogeneous affair, but folks of every kind of political persuasion
agree: laughing children, good music, and quality food are the products of our collective better
natures. I am inclined to use the word “joy” to describe the Garrettsville Farmers' Market.
Happiness happens to everyone every once in a while, but joy is something one cultivates.
While I have no clue how to solve the larger global and national problems Facebook wants us
to argue about, I have a hunch that participating in community events without sect or creed is
the opposite of rancor.
The rouge diver romaine tastes milder and sweeter this season. That's because we
practiced growing what we desired to share with our customers. We look forward to seeing
you in a couple weeks.

Ryan and Karly Lind
CopperHawk Farms