This is my first Spring since I started teaching that I now have time to devote to the garden. And it does feel like devotion, a re-discovery of the sacred lines of power beneath me. It almost always works, if I just pay attention: I discover a little pattern and then a big one where I uncover a larger truth.
First, I observed our berry patch. It has gone wild with tip-rooting. Felt like chaos. Yes, a good and growing chaos but an unmanageable tangle like a bamboo rhizome, but one that needed managing. I worked on the berries (mostly tame blackberries) down at the micro level while a question began to scuttle about in my brain: How much of my life is devoted to and revolves about making the world appear less random and more ordered?
Second, the answer appeared first in concrete form. I tried to draw together in my mind’s eye all the random, tip-rooted berries that were proximate around a central node. In this case I imagined a t-post sticking from the ground, hopefully in line with other t-posts. Anything outside the sphere of that imaginary t-post was dug up and set aside for the moment. Then I pounded the t-post into the ground. All the remaining berry stems around that node were tied to it.
Third, the wayward berries, in other words the ones that did not fit any of the t-posts, I dug up, I pounded in new t-posts and planted the berries next to them. There were only two more t-posts needed.
Thus, we get the little truths from working in the garden, the little patterns that help us feel the foolish satisfaction that we done whooped entropy’s ass. Instead, I had some larger truths:
- I need to revisit each post to observe further with the idea of simplifying further as the spring progresses.
- I need more and different berries.
- I am retired and have time to do this.
- I need to love the time I spend on this work.
- I need to expand the time I spend in the garden weeding, planting, pruning, and most importantly, observing.
From this pattern of observe-question-answer I also discovered this larger pattern:
Let things grow a little wild. Let the pattern emerge from the chaos. Refine the “rough go” of it. Observe and renovate.
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Thinking of your blog as a garden that needs constant tending?
Me too.
I often visit articles from past years and share them into the Twitterverse, or in updated articles.
As I do this I find broken links or references that are no longer current. These I edit and update, or remove, like weeding.
My blog is likely to remain well after my passing. Thus, I hope others will at some point, dig in, and replant my articles in new spaces.
Thanks for the prompt.