-- a journey into awareness
I hit a space
where I feel alone
lost, cutoff.
I’m not of course.
Friends reach out
with care and food.
So where does
vulnerability
come from?
Did I over identify
with “us”?
Did “me” get lost?
Filling out the all
the paperwork
scares me.
It never used to.
Did I think he was a
talisman for me?
My mind searches
for an explanation,
even though I know
it’s only with time that
a new way of life
will be born.
Worms feed robins
Mice feed coyotes
Cattle feed humans
Everything gives
of itself to sustain life
Our bodies decay
and feed the earth
The air we exhale,
others breathe in
The dance of life
The sacred giving
and receiving
Stop the flow
and you are
out of step
You suddenly think
you are more important
then the field mice
This form will end.
The only thing that
lives on is our love
It flows on like a river
through everything,
until resting in the ocean
it evaporates
lifting into clouds, and
the dance starts again.
I keep staring at them, willing them to shoot up their yellow flowers. I want the color but my garden is taking its own good time. It’s still May, too early for most of the perennial flowers, especially these Western Sunflowers, to bloom. I’m feeling impatient.
Spring has been here forever. I want warmer weather and the richness of the harvest. Silly of course, and just a passing emotional storm Yet I’m aware that in our world of instant messaging, it’s easy to lose touch with the natural rhythm of things.
Waiting is seen only as a delay. Defining goals suddenly slips into a dissatisfaction with what we have now. Being where you are seems not enough. You forget to appreciate and enjoy what is.
Fortunately I can laugh at my impatience. It too will pass.
I walk back into the house remembering that now is the only moment I have. And, I smile.
Thursday. I planted the lovely little Red Chokeberry bush.
Saturday. I went to see how it was doing. There were no small white flowers, no delicate green leaves; just bare branches. The deer had dined!
All day I mourned the loss of this pretty little plant with its bird friendly berries. I struggled with whether I should replace it. Might it grow back? What would I need to do to keep the deer away?
Sunday. I began to think that this was a gentle wake up call. It was a reminder that I’m part of a bigger system, and not totally in control. There’s other life, with other priorities. A garden is not only about aesthetics, it’s also about lunch.
I had to decide what to do. Do I fence in the shrub? Buy something more deer resistant? Spray noxious concoctions to discourage the deer eating. Do I walk away and grow flowers? Somehow I think it is important for me to accept the fact that deer roam the city streets. We’ve not found a way to coexist with the wild life that inhabits our cites. Is this natural? Well, at the moment it just is.
I don’t want to do battle. I don’t want everything I grow to be fenced in.
So, I’m planting a Molly Schroeder Viburnum, less tasty to deer. This new shrub will remind me I’m not alone on the planet. It’ll be a humble reminder that I’m part of something bigger and that my desires aren’t the only ones that count.
Monday. I’m posting this. It’s one of many lessons I’m getting about the systems we are a part of. I don’t want this post to be a diatribe about too many deer in our cities. It’s really a love poem to the complexity of life.