Leaving Perigueux and part of myself behind

I have to say that this past week has changed something in me. I know my last post was somewhat preachy and if nothing more, overcharged with idealistic ideology. But its hard not to want to take the time to see the way life was and continues to be in the rural parts of the world. I can't say it was all moments of bliss and ecstasy, I managed to mess up a few times, and even learn a little french. There were moments of frustration and aggony which accompanies inability to communicate. But then again, people who speak the same language have the same crux to consider in their native lands. The week was, in a word, Funidmental. It taught me a lot about myself, and where the boundries lie for me, between satisfaction and overcoming insecurities. To get a little serious for moment, I promise laughs before this post is through, for me the line grew clear between working to impress and working at my best. The results are fractions apart, nearly the same, but the mental reservations that can overcome ones mind in a state of thrusting movements motivated by pure insecurity and desire to show one's prowess can only be construed as immature. I will not argue with the need to impress others. However I regard the act of impression just for the sake of impression leaves nothing more then a footprint in the sand. A momentary figure of what strength and presure one can exude, and yet nothing can prevent the great force of the ocean from obliterating the object which so proudly defined its owner. I learned of myself, and beneath the great wide open skyscape of Southwestern France, I found that the clouds and the sun, cared little for those it covered, and the land neither toiled nor spoke out to whose hands tended its bussom. Nature will not speak back, and shout and exclaim its dissatisfaction with those who work with and without it. Paul and Genevive Jacques, my hosts both lived alternate lives before they entered into the country for a live with the land. But Paul especially showed no real expression, save for his eyes; which both blue and bold gesticulated to even his smallest emotion. It was in his eyes that I saw my futility and my weakness. I hold no contempt for Mouissuer Jacques' eyes, because it was by his land that I found myself alone, in a field with sky above, earth below and the labor of my two very own hands giving opportunity to new life on the farm. It was an experience that has changed me and gave me the chance to witness the difference between the self I habitutally exude, and the one which lies within me. The one that has belonged to my father, and their fathers before them. If you want to find out just who you are in this life, then make something before you take something. Deal with the responsibility of overseeing something from seedling to harvest, and the decisions you make to kill, feed, and sell that life will reflect greatly in the reflection of the self you wish to be.