Metaphores

Art in the Garden

Working in the garden has always been a spiritual experience for me. As I focus on the tasks of designing and planning, weeding and planting, I am reminded of the inner work I have always returned to as I weave this life of mine.

This summer has been warm and humid. My garden blooms happily in these conditions, but so do the weeds who insist on affirming “we are plants, too!”. I am generally content to welcome all blooming life, but every once in a while, I get the urge to manage the spread of botanical diversity in my flower beds.

Yesterday, I decided that weeding had become a priority. I noticed that some plants had spread into areas where they would soon be overcrowding others. I decided to cull them for the good of my garden community. Some plants are invasive, they don’t share the space with others.

I removed what doesn’t serve the whole garden. I made room for what I want to support and nurture. It is easier to let the weeds grow for a while, as they are easier to remove when they are bigger. It is much more difficult to pull the small ones.

Perfectionism is lost in the garden. While I was weeding and culling, I knew that I could not eliminate all the weeds. I knew that the invasive plants would return, since this is their nature. Their roots are strong, and run under the soil’s surface. They entangle themselves into other plants, roots and all. I would injure myself, my back, trying to dig them all out. I knew that accepting their nature was the right choice.

As I  worked, I became aware of the inner process mirrored in my project.

For the past few months, I have been checking in with myself. I am an introspective person, so this is not new, but this year, I turned 70 in November. I don’t usually worry about age, but this year felt different. Entering my seventh decade coincided with the timing of a variety of health problems, and I feel that I am entering a different phase of my life. I am not ready to feel old, but I have become more acutely aware of my prospects, and of the precious nature of any time I may have. As I emerge from several months of review, I feel I am shedding layers, a process that involves choosing what is authentic and meaningful in my life now.

When I look at the work I am doing within, I can see the old ideas, pattens and beliefs that no longer serve me. I want to remove or change them; but these old ideas, patterns and beliefs are well-rooted. Their roots are tangled with other patterns and beliefs that are welcome.

Some old ideas, patterns and beliefs become visible, apparent, over time. Life allows me to see them, it brings them to my attention. When this happens, the time is right to address them, root them out. Will I eradicate them from my life? No. Will they send shoots into the areas of my life? Of course, that is their nature.

So what is my work? My work is to commit to the process of paying attention. Weeding is an ongoing process. A garden without weeds exists only in a snapshot, a moment in time before the new roots pop up, break ground, and entangle themselves with the plants you have chosen.

To be a happy gardener, I need to accept the way of the natural world.

So:

Describing something as a weed is a matter of perspective, usually defined by what I chose to plant.

The ecosystem in which I live has its own plan; I can chose to work with it, and welcome some of its contributions to my garden, or I can engage in a losing battle.

If I chose acceptance and flexibility, I can marvel at my garden’s ever-changing display. If I chose an ideal of perfection by hunting down every weed, I will likely experience frustration and a sore back.

Quite the metaphor, gardening. A creative endeavour that teaches acceptance, perspective, and gratitude.