More Gardening Lessons

     I continue to be amazed by what my garden has to teach me.  Here are some of the lessons I've been especially focused on recently:

    1.  When I am pulling weeds, if I tug them too hard, they simply break off.  When I am gentle at pulling out each weed, I am often able to pull long and intact roots along with the weed, insuring that at least that particular weed will not grow back. I think the same is true in life.  When we try to fight or force solutions, tugging out our problems or issues, it might look for a time like we have solved the issue.  But we've just broken it off at the soil.  The root of the problem remains and as a result, it will come back, grow back, often stronger and with more force since the roots have had time to continue to grow and strengthen.  I think the current divisions in our country, the strong stance of opposition that each side takes reflects this intractability of the issues.  We have not worked with each other, we have not tried to dig down to understand the different values and beliefs that form each other's viewpoints and choices.  As a result, the roots of each side have continued to grow and develop, unbeknownst to the other side.  The fights, the issues, might be cut off at the base for a time.  But the issues themselves will come back unless there is a deeper dig into what is causing our divide, truly, underneath what we see.  Until we listen, are gentle with each other, and dig down deep into understanding, there can be no movement, no healing, and no solutions to this divide.

    2.  On Saturday, I was sheet mulching under a large tree in our front yard.  I stood up too fast and hit my head, hard, on the tree. Several things had happened: first I was so focused on what was right in front of me that I forgot to take in the bigger picture of what was around me.  I forgot to notice the tree and that failure to see ended up causing me pain. This too is mirrored in our culture.  We get caught up in the little things and sometimes forget to see the big picture.  When that happens, we can again, head down paths that may suit us or serve us for a time, but will not serve us in the long run.  Our need for instant gratification, for wealth, for comfort has caused us to become blind to the damage we are doing to other cultures and to the earth, for example. We stop seeing. We stop feeling.  And in the end, it may kill us all.  

    3. The second thing I learned from the tree incident was that I need to avoid pushing so hard that I become too tired to function properly.  I wanted to get the sheet mulching done.  I'm not comfortable having a load of mulch in my driveway and wanted to move it all to where it would finally be in its place.  But after a couple hours of loading mulch into the wheelbarrow, moving it and then scooping it out and spreading it, I was so tired that I fell twice before finally hitting my head on the tree.  I had been trying to get the mulching done too quickly and that insistence on continuing to work when it was obvious that I was spent just slowed me down in the end.  It also meant that my gardening project stopped being fun and life-giving for me that day.  It became something I was dreading and resenting.  And I'm now angry at the tree that I have loved, despite knowing that actually it was my own fault. Yes, there is value in pushing ourselves farther. But recognizing when we've reached the limit is also important.  We won't reach the finish line if we fall off the track completely in utter exhaustion.  Knowing when to pause, to stop, to rest: these are lessons I should have learned during sabbatical, but apparently need to learn again in a different, and hopefully deeper way. 

    4.  I mentioned this before, but some plants live and others don't.  I'm not ultimately in charge of that.  I can do my best to help them grow, but in the end, all I can do is what is in front of me to do.  The results of my work, the results of the plants growing or dying: that is not in my control. The results are up to so many things that are beyond my control: the plants themselves, the weather, the soil, God. I have to give up the reigns of power when it comes to what thrives in the garden and what does not.  And this applies to all I do.  I can only do what is in front of me to be done.  If it leads to something positive in the world, great.  But even if it doesn't, that's all I can do.  The results are not mine to dictate.

    5.  Gardens take time, and they take intention.  Now that I'm back to working full time, finding the space needed to garden is harder.  Also, as the days get shorter, the options of going out in the early morning hours or the late evening hours are diminishing.  I am needing to be intentional about the things that matter to me.  And this applies not only to my garden but to other areas of my life.  David and I have had a hard time finding time together lately.  My day off is Friday.  His is Saturday. During the week, my evenings are packed with meetings more often than not.  At this point we have to schedule time together, and that needs to be okay.  Marking off those times for us, and marking off those times for my gardening: these are things I need to do.  As I had mentioned in my "lessons from sabbatical", I also need to be intentional about making time for friends, for walking, and for writing.  This is the time of life I am in.  I cannot afford to just hope that time will be available for what I need and want to do.  I have to work at it, and that has to be okay.  If I want my garden to be beautiful, I need to find the time that it needs to become so and to stay so.  I have to prioritize, and be serious in that commitment.

    I love what my garden is teaching me.  And I am working hard to internalize these important life lessons.