Gardening

I spent much of the afternoon yesterday in the garden, overturning soil, cutting down dead brush, and planting the first of this year's vegetable crop. Already, little tufts of nettle have crept out of the ground to join the creeping charle, which seems to have no fear of the cold and snow.

It's been a beautiful weekend - sunny, temperatures in the fifties - perfect gardening weather.

When I'm in the middle of digging a new bed, or chopping down last year's dead, there is no separation between I and the world. There isn't really an I, just the coming together of everything in that moment - the tossing of soil, movement of arms, slight breeze, smell of dried leaves, sound of cardinals in the trees above. And when I reflect on this more, I can even see the suffering of sliced earthworms, removed little plants that are just beginning to grow, fleeting memories of an ex-girlfriend who helped me plant some of the perennials that are now beginning to return. Nothing is missing. This is true of every moment, Buddha taught, but I forget that so often. Yet, in the garden, it's an easy path for me to awareness, and to letting go of everything, including awareness.

The earth never ceases to be our teacher.