The whole world is a garden
I was writing to a friend when I realized that some of my words to her would make a good kernel for a Substack. So, my friend, you inspired this post.
I spent some time recently in my parent's meditation garden. This spot of beauty is both tranquil and not. It is a beautiful setting, peaceful with full foliage, but also next to the road; while not busy, there is a good chance that a car will drive past while you sit. Dad has begun cleaning up the fall and winter debris for the new year, but there is still replanting to do, and other maintenance. As for meditation comfort, the bench is not cushioned, but is in a pleasant shape, and it is easy to relax, take in the beauty of nature, until you look just ahead to the road. The old bench squats ruined, guarding the entrance to the woods. Currently, this garden is in transition between dormant and alive, and just needs some care to reach its potential. This garden is like us. We have been battered by snow, freeze-thaw, wind, rain, buried under leaves, and our spirits have a little moss growing in places (at least mine does!). This garden does not look at its best right now, in fact it seems as if the ground is trying to recapture the space for natural entropy, but with a little care and attention it can be what it was meant to be.
This garden came to be after a storm took out a few trees at the end of my parent’s driveway. The squall was merely a tropical storm by the time it reached us, but I still spent over eight hours bailing out the basement while my parents and sisters helped me, and also cared for other areas of the house. At some point in the saga, a knock came to the door because a neighbor saw a tree was down, blocking the driveway. Clearing that tree quickly became my dad’s top priority.
For several years after, the trees that had been knocked off perch from the driveway-blocker remained a tangle in the woods before the house. There never seems to be enough time to do the things we want to do when we find them.
It was not until the spring my dad retired, he was able to spend hours a day, chainsaw in hand, clearing that storm damage. It took him over a month of steady, dedicated work to reach a state where we could dream of the next steps.
When the trees were safely down, the branches cleared away, it was time for the questions: seed the area with grass seed and hope it grows? Plant native species and hope to attract local pollinators? Turn the area over to nature or cultivate something else entirely? It was easy to decide to not seed grass over the area – why add more places to mow? So my dad started preparing the land for a garden and discovered the crops of stone.
In all his years of tending a vegetable garden on the property, it turns out the real crop was rocks. Flagstone after flagstone he pulled out of the land, until we realized we had enough for a stone-paved pathway through a garden. Thus, the Irene Meditation Garden was born, Irene being the name of that tropical storm so many years ago whose destruction made this beauty possible.
As I sat there recently, with the garden in this in-between state, I saw my own reflection. I am in an in-between state right now. As many of my readers know, I am resigning from my position as pastor of the Presbyterian Church in Schoharie, but my future needs some careful cultivating and attention. I feel pulled to a particular undertaking, but to do it will take time, attention, and money. I know I have connections who can help, but I am also tired, with moss and spiritual/mental debris that needs attention. It is wild how quickly nature will reclaim space if we humans stop making it conform to our will, for good or ill, and the same is true for our spirits, ourselves. If there is something you feel called to do, pulled to do, spend some time each day focused on that dream, even if it is just making a list of people to talk with. Tend to your garden. Replant what needs replanting, and remove what is not working.
This year, my dad is calling in the help of some experts to help him tend to the needs of the Irene garden. Identify your experts, ask for help. You will need to continue tending your garden your whole life, but let it grow and change with the seasons, with the years. Climate changes, plants adapt and thrive, or you need to change what is in your garden going forward. This does not mean the previous plants were bad choices, but they are no longer working as they are. Do what you need to do to have a thriving, beautiful celebration of life.