my small suburban slice of paradise, has been flourishing in the most unlikely circumstances of late. one small previously forgotten patch in particular.
through pains and frustrations of recent times, I've been tilling the soil of that little patch and letting my angry sweat drip into the ground and pushing my body to ache over the repetitive actions to move said ground. my mind is cleared while I press into the dirt and mix it with tools and bare hands, and when I pluck the weeds right down at that thick, ground-level stump to see the dirty roots flick about with sudden velocity. everything is gone. dissipated, I believe, into the air about my face and limbs, the ground I'm working below and even way up into the sky above me. up, that's where I think everything that at one point was fogging up the tiny little windows in my mind goes, to breathe a bit. those thoughts need breath too. and they require wisdom. i think my body holds to them too tightly sometimes, with too much anger and grief.
I'm satisfied that as I commit myself to life and thought in the practice, in doing, I am able to work through and till the soil of my most muddy times. I've never thought I've been very good at growing and most importantly cultivating vegetables. it seems more so that all I needed was the need to dig and move that soil around, to watch for pesky pretty butterflies from the kitchen window. to wave and ward them off my broccoli and pumpkin. the things in my mind are real and heavy and will stay for a while to come, but I think I need to use what God has given me to develop them and till them still, to see them flourish like my tomato plants and zucchini towers.
i am thankful for some of my anger and most of my strength, as without it i would not have fresh garden vegetables on my table this coming summer. I am finding myself quite capable in the patch, quite able.
who knew, and did not tell me that zucchini plants really need space, a lot of it...my poor carrots.