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I'VE BEEN HAUNTED BY A QUESTION . . .
from a reader that we shared last week...
"...what happens when even small things can’t compensate for the inability to access land and generate income—especially when that access is essential for our well-being and sense of purpose?"
The relevance to the work of farming resonates clearly, but I think what haunts me about it is how it applies to so many things. I find myself wondering daily how my belief in small things can withstand the grief and rage of myself, and of the world. And if it can withstand it, what purpose does my belief serve?
I believe it's essential to be aware, to understand your own truth, and to speak that truth against those who would silence you. What happens when you are doing all of that, and systems of power overwhelm you, as they are designed to do? How do we avoid feeling trapped in the relative helplessness of our individual situations (even when we are not alone)?
Yesterday, I was standing by the river as I pondered, and I noticed a seagull clinging to the last of the ice floes, which looked to be the size of a small pancake. I thought about how the only answer I've encountered to the questions above is faith, because it's the thing that allows us to keep listening and looking for the next step, and to believe in collective power along the way.
As I suspected, the dictionary has multiple definitions (and sub-definitions, and sub-sub definitions) of faith. My favorite is 'firm belief in something for which there is no proof.' I take this as an example of how there is no one kind of faith that is superior or higher quality or more enduring. And while many people try to use faith as a platitude, I don't believe that gets at the realness or the mystery of faith, which is that we still experience it in our greatest pain and discomfort, and that it's not a guarantee of anything - not of outcome or reward or relief.
Perhaps that all sounds fine to you, but you are wondering, like me, about more concrete things. Faith is abstract, isn't it? I would have said so, but as I looked at the seagull, I wondered if faith occurs in the natural world. What came to mind, almost immediately, were examples of faith as a constant presence in nature: when squirrels leap from one branch to another (and sometimes fall), when seeds wait (sometimes for centuries) to uncurl and grow, when the seagull bobs along, utterly present despite the uncertainty of all that promises to unfold.
I've begun to nurse a suspicion that faith might be essential to our survival as natural beings. We all know that we will someday die, and that none of us is guaranteed a particular amount of time, yet we plod onward. Humans have found ways to make that simple fact as complex as you can imagine, but I think we have much to learn about the concrete nature of faith from the non-human life around us. Maybe those lessons will work on our souls the way that we hope our small actions will join the collective swell of transformation.
From our homes in New York, we are in that last spell of patience before the warmth begins to loosen and beckon things upward and outward. We are also, at GFJ, in a transition from sharing this newsletter via MailChimp, as we have done for many years, to sharing it via Substack each week. Today will be the last day we anticipate sending this letter out from the former platform.
The most important thing to know, as a reader, is that if you want to keep receiving our weekly emails free of charge, you don't need to do anything at all. Some of the more complicated details, ones that press our discomfort and test our faith, include the fact that we will be offering a paid subscription option for those who want to engage in comments on our posts, and receive additional content - things like online events, recorded conversations, and other ways to connect.
What about the great big Why? Why put ourselves, and you, through this transition? Why create another collection plate while the machine of capitalism pushes forward, unchecked, and so many are struggling to meet basic needs?
Although we wrestle with those questions, we also return continually to the center of community that has been created through GFJ. When we sent out a survey on that topic at the end of 2025, we heard from so many folks who find value in GFJ, but have never posted a job. Most of that value comes from this newsletter.
We've kept the majority of our content - everything except the job posting fee - free since the beginning. To sustain GFJ as a business and a resource, we didn't want to make fundamental changes to our fee-free ways (such as charging a fee to view job listings, or requiring subscriptions to read the newsletter). Instead, we want to create a pathway for all those who don't 'pay into' GFJ regularly, but do want to support our work as integral members of this community.
Much like our Pay What You Can model for posting jobs - instituted at the onset of Covid, but now an institution in our offerings - if you feel you would benefit from being a paid subscriber but don't have the funds, you can always reach out to us.
The same goes for all those who have, or might someday, hit reply to the newsletter - we have loved hearing from you, and hope you'll keep it coming by emailing us any time.
Bending toward the light,
Dor + Tay
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