gardening – REDEFINING REALITY

I always feel so guilty when I thin out seedlings. I even find myself apologizing; “I’m sorry sweetie, I know you were trying your best, if I had space each and every one of you would get the chance to grow to your full potential.”

In a way I find myself akin to the ones that don’t make the cut. In almost every area of my life that has always been the case. I may be well read and have a lot of knowledge in a wide variety of areas; a lot of skills in a wide variety of specialties, but someone else is always better. Someone else always gets the lead role, the award, the solo, the contract, the promotion. In the end I always get weeded out.

I don’t hold it against them, the ones who win. They worked hard for it. In most cases, they have dedicated their lives to this one thing be it academics, music, drama, a career, or whatever else it is that they succeed at. They deserve it, and I will be the first one to congratulate them on a job well done.

It does sting though, to admit that I will never be quite good enough to be best; that somehow I always end up in the supporting role, in the chorus, as part of the team support, or as the wind beneath their wings, the one the successful ones mention when they thank all of those that got them there and made this possible.

It is the dabbling that it is my downfall you see. So many successful people know what they want to do with their lives from the time that they are kids. For most it has been their lifelong focus. They start gymnastics or ballet at the age of three and go on to win tournaments and perhaps go on to the Olympics or make a career out of being a ballerina or teaching others to dance or tumble.

Perhaps they have been playing the violin since the age of six and their dream is to play in a professional orchestra or come up with the next immortal symphony. Perhaps they have been drawing since they were born and so it should come as no surprise when they open their own art gallery or become a famous illustrator or find their niche in teaching or painting.

Some people find mathematics or science or religion and throw themselves into their vocation with a diligence that always amazes me. Seriously, to spend a career studying one type of molecule or a specific type of invertebrate? I am astounded by their dedication to their chosen topic. Even more astounded at their insights and the advances that they contribute to humanity’s body of knowledge.

These successful individuals work harder than I do, I will admit that. They dedicate their lives to one thing; throwing themselves into their chosen vocation with a focus that is simultaneously admirable and terrifying, so it is no wonder to me that they succeed.

Part of me wishes that I could have that sort of focus, but another part of me shudders in horror at the thought of being locked into any one thing for my entire life.

And so, I will settle for being a weeded-out seedling. After all, it’s not like they get tossed out in the trash. They get tossed into the woods; discarded in favor of the bigger, stronger and more beautiful.

But discarded seedlings still have the opportunity to bloom and grow and become what they were meant to be, even if it is out of sight in the woods where the wild things are.

Uninhibited by containers or boundaries, this seedling’s roots will grow deep and wide. Her blossoms and fruit will be found in the most unexpected places and at the least expected times.

And so, I will perform for the ground hogs and the rabbits. I will write stories for the crows and for the hawks. I will sing for the deer and paint my pictures for the Fisher Cats. My performance reviews will be written by moonlight and documented in the leaves of the trees and my riches will be in the golden spill of morning sunlight, the silver sparkles on the river, and in the knowledge of a life not contained by anyone or anything, but where every moment has been lived to the fullest.

Once again its spring and I’m getting my front garden ready for planting. It’s not a big patch, but I always like to take the time to make something unique and unusual out of it; something unexpected. But even the simplest of changes requires some hours of work turning over dirt, removing weeds and getting the patch ready for the seeds or bulbs or plantings that I’m going to add.

The earthworms are out! I giggle quietly as I turn over a large chunk of dirt and expose the roots of the grass to the sun and turn half a dozen of them out of their homes. There is even one on my shovel! The worm on my hand spade quickly wriggles off and burrows back into the dirt, anxious to be out of the direct sunlight.

Even more amazing to me than the worms (And why is it that worms seem to hate direct sunlight so, anyway, are they really vampires in disguise? Does the sun dry them out too fast? Are they afraid of robins?) is the complex world that I find just below the surface of the earth.

Think about it. We tend to take what we see in our world for granted. Even in pastoral settings (come to think of it particularly in pastoral settings) the grass, the trees, the flowers – they all tend to mix together into an impression of “countryside” or “garden” and as lovely as any one scene is to the eye, how often do we really think about just how much is going on just out of our sight?

I still remember a child’s book that I stumbled across once that showed cross sections of a city street; everything that was beneath a city street’s paved surface. It showed the layers of the road itself (packed dirt and gravel and pavement) as well as water pipes, sewer pipes, drainage systems, electrical work. I stood there, amazed, flipping through the brightly colored pictures and thinking “who would have thought?” I mean, I always knew that they were there – those layers – but I never really thought about it.

But as complex and layered as a man made city street may be the world beneath the level of an acre of countryside is ten times more amazing to me for one very important reason; it’s alive!

All of it is alive. The roots of the grass, the roots of the trees, the roots of those damned pesky weeds, and man do those have some amazingly complex root systems! But it isn’t just the roots, it’s what lives within the roots; the wriggling earthworms and the ants and the burrowing mice, the moles, the rabbits, the chipmunks (did you know that chipmunks build underground nests?) the bees. Yeah, I found out about the bees the hard way; stepping into an underground nest when I went to clip my hedge a couple of years back. It wasn’t pleasant.

But it goes far deeper than the roots and the nests and the burrows. Dig down deeper and you’ll find underground rivers and reservoirs that feed the roots of all the growing things. Dig even deeper and you will find the coal and the oil that we use to heat our homes and run our vehicles; the iron ore on which so much of our industry is based; the gold and silver and gems that so many people hold in such high regard.

It’s very much like our lives, isn’t it; like reality in general if you think about it. So often we get caught up in the pretty packaging; in the colorful flowering things and the way the greens contrast against each other, when all the time everything that makes this color fest possible is actively getting on with its business right below our feet; a whole world that we tend to not even think about.

How many times a day do we stop to actually pay attention to the thoughts that are generating our actions? How many times a day do we actively consider why we are saying what we are saying and doing what we are doing? How many times a day do we voluntarily and consciously touch that deep inner core from which our true strength and beauty comes and express our gratitude for everything that makes us who we are?

Does it make us better people – to pay attention to our inner workings and the source of our strength? Of course not; we are still exactly who we were before; exactly who we are when we are not paying attention. The only difference is that when we are paying attention; when we allow ourselves to be consciously aware of those multitudes of layers; those complexities that make us who we are; we open ourselves to a depth of reality that can lend richness to our lives that most people lack.

In fact, most people go through their lives feeling as if there is something missing; something that they can’t quite put a finger on; something that should be there; something that they should be aware of. Just like the active world beneath our feet, everything they are looking for is just under the surface – if only they would take the time to get their hands dirty and do a little digging…

I sit back on my heels and grin as the earthworm wriggles frantically off of my spade and dives for cover in the cool, smooth earth. He’s desperate to get below the surface of things; down to where things cease to simply look pretty and start to get real in earnest. Can I blame him? Maybe I can join him. Maybe we all can.