This year, for whatever reason, my harvest of snap peas was abysmal. The plants are basically finished and I haven’t even been able to freeze a single bag of peas (last year I froze 8 bags!) So yesterday, I went around the pea trellis and picked all the fat ugly snap peas that were still green enough to be eaten and brought them inside.
After dinner, I sat at the table for about half an hour shelling my snap peas. I know they’re snap peas and you’re supposed to eat them whole, but I didn’t want them to go to waste. I ended up with about 1 1/2 cups of peas.
And then I went online and ordered a pack of heirloom shelling peas.
Why? Because I enjoyed shelling my peas.
I saw a meme on the internet a few years back that attributed most of the ills of the world to people “not having shelled peas with grandma on the porch anymore.” When a family used to grow peas, they were work together to harvest them and then work together around a big basket or two to shell them. Then they could preserve them however fit their needs best.
The simple act of shelling peas is the important part here. Sitting down for awhile and shelling peas gives your brain and body the same therapeutic effects as cracking and picking hickory nuts, snapping green beans, crocheting, basket weaving, and any number of other skills you do without thinking very hard about the task and just letting your hands do the work. Not only does your mind get to rest, but you get something useful done/made at the same time.
I realized during that half hour last night one of the things I’ve been missing from my life, which has been contributing greatly to my stress levels, is that same sort of handiwork. I love to crochet. I used to love making artwork (drawing, painting, crafting) but I haven’t had time. I can’t even remember the last time I made a piece of art just for the sheer joy of it, for myself, rather than with the purpose of selling it.
This phenomenon is described well in an article in Psychology Today:
“First, when we use our hands on a task that doesn’t demand much cognitively, it gives the mind a chance to relax and rest. It’s gotten worse with the advent of the smartphone, as I spend so much of my downtime reading interesting articles. I also love reading novels. My brain rarely catches a break.
I get a huge sense of relief and pleasure from doing something with my hands that doesn’t require me to think much about anything. It’s magnificent.
Second, when my brain is “offline,” it gives it a chance to work on problems behind the scenes. From a number of essays and articles that I read on this topic, it’s not uncommon for people to have breakthrough ideas while mindlessly working on something with their hands.
Third, working productively with our hands is profoundly pleasurable. There is something primal about this. We are made to be active, and have actively used our hands as part of our daily survival for thousands of years. With the advent of so much technology, many of us move through our days with minimal physical effort. We push a button instead of scrubbing dishes or laundry. Overall, we get far less physical activity than would be optimal for our bodies and minds.
Using our hands may actually be key to maintaining a healthy mood, and the lack of this type of activity may contribute to feelings of irritability, apathy, and depression.”
It makes sense to me that as my ability to wind down, relax, and just do something mindless with my hands has decreased, my stress levels have increased. I spent the better part of 15 years living as a wife, managing the house and children yes, but not responsible on my own for providing the income for our family.
Since my second divorce late last year, the onus has been on me. I am the one who has to do 100% of the domestic labor, manage the mental domestic load, grow, raise, and process as much of our food as possible, take care of the lawn and yard, and at the same time somehow manage to make an income large enough to pay all my expenses as well. The transition has been both a blessing and a curse; I’m grateful to finally be out of an unhappy marriage, but my hair is falling out and my cortisol is through the roof.
I am far from the only woman to have experienced this phenomenon. Most single mothers deal with this exact same problem. I’m grateful I quit drinking alcohol last year. I think I’d be in a worse place mentally if I was dealing with my life the way it is now and alcoholism. I find solace in the forest and in being barefoot outdoors. But sometimes I really wish I could just sit in the backyard with a basket of peas and a friend or two and chat while working on something with my hands.
I still have a bushel full of black walnuts sitting on my back porch from last October that I haven’t had time to shell. I’m growing flint corn this year that will need to be taken off the cobs, and I’ve been planting my beans for the last few weeks. I’m certainly putting those shelling peas into the garden as soon as the seed packet arrives.
I don’t mind doing the work alone, but when I’m alone part of me feels the need to be extremely useful and doing things that further my work/income. I actually need another person with me to force me to sit down and relax.
I’m considering offering a harvesting day later this year, probably September, to people that live locally. I doubt I’m the only person who feels like this. But wouldn’t it be nice if you could take your big bucket of whatever-it-is-you-harvested, sit in a circle with other people who have a similar project, and just do the work while we chat away? No work, I’m not teaching you, we don’t expect anything from each other, we’re just friends for awhile.
Would you like to come over and shell peas with me? It might be good for both of us.