Ordering Seeds

As I wipe away my tears from watching Obama’s First Inaugural Speech, I reflect on this time of year. As a gardener it is when I look through the seed catalogues. I dream about what my garden will be like in the full glow of summer. I choose what seeds to order, still fantasying that they will all germinate, all grow up beautiful, all be bountiful.

My country and my friends seem to have that same dream for our country. Since this is not my first season I know that won’t happen. I remember that sometimes the most beautiful flower in my garden was not planted by me. It might be the volunteer plant returning from a forgotten previous planting. Sometimes it is some “weed” brought by a bird or perhaps which has laid dormant there for years.

For those seeds which I do order, I don’t know what the weather will be like. When I used to be a caterer at almost every wedding I would be asked if it was going to rain. To which I’d sassily answer if I knew that, or could control it, I wouldn’t have to work as a caterer. We never know what the future holds, but we can make some assumptions based on past experience. It will be warm, sunny and dry during the northern California summer. How wet the spring will be varies, but I can somewhat influence that with my watering habits. In these conditions many if not all of my seeds will germinate.

Currently my compost is ripening. Some of my beds have been prepped and others need more attention. I have to plan out not only what seeds to get but where they will all go. All too often I’m unrealistic in this, thinking somehow I will be able to fit in all the plants that strike my fancy. I’ll have to make decisions about how many flowers to feed my soul versus vegetables to feed my belly, while leaving room for the herbs which will maintain my health and season my meals.

Despite my best efforts and years of practice the current dream garden of winter will not be found in the real garden of summer. Over the years in some ways they have grown more alike, but more importantly I have grown able to enjoy both. The failures have become my friends, opportunities for learning, a chance to embrace the serendipity. I have learned many new steps in my dance with nature. I have learned that sometimes I lead and sometimes she does. I have learned not to step on her toes (too often), and delighted in having her between my own.

I have lots of hope, I’m not sure how much virtue. My commitment will ebb and flow, but I will show up regularly if not daily. I will leave my little rental yard, better than it was when I found it. Filled with dreams and flowers. Healthier soul, and many healing intentions planted for later occupants. Monocultures of grass lawn replaced with herbs and vegetables. New seeds buried for others to discover. It will be a garden of dreams in all seasons—some realized and some waiting to express their potential. Hopefully four years from now, in his Second Inaugural, Obama will be able to tell us about what has flourished in our nation.

New Year

As one year winds down and another begins a familiar line of prayer from my youth echoes in my head; “We have left undone those things which we ought to have done, and we have done those things we ought not to have done.” Although it can take on the feeling of guilt I instead see it as a simple statement of fact, a true statement of the human condition. It can be applied to the too much candy I’ve eaten in the last few weeks and the too little fresh vegetables which have left me sick from my trip to New York to see family and friends. Yet it also seems to me a way to clean the slate. Just lay the truth out there and ask for forgiveness so one can try again.

I’m often struck by the word practice and where and how often it crops up. I have my yoga practice and I’m a practicing Christian. In both of these I see why practice works so much better than perfect. And in both I feel what is most important is showing up and trying.

So that’s what I’m going to do with my writing and this blog too. I’m not going to promise what I won’t deliver. I’m certain that I won’t post 365 times but 52 is possible as is somewhere in between those two. And I hope to write something somewhere every day, if it sees the light of day or not—if no one else reads it or not.

Last year at this time I was in India for a yoga retreat and ayurvedic teacher training with Shiva Rea and James Bailey. After that I attended the Yoga Journal Conference and then spent the most intense four months of my life in Laughing Lotus’s teacher training. I feel like in my ways I’m a different person a year later. Every morning I look in the mirror and see a new person. Sure in many ways the changes our subtle and sometimes, somehow sneak up on me. When did that vertical wrinkle over my left eye start? And why can’t I just relax it away? I also see the same twinkle in my eyes that I see in baby photos—same cow lick too.

In many traditions the rebirth of the light is celebrated at this time. In Christianity the birth of Jesus—the light of the world-- is honored. When I was back East I got to spend time with one of my best friends who is currently pregnant. I’m excited about the possibilities literally growing inside her. I also got to see my beloved niece who I hadn’t seen in over two years, actually got to see both of my nieces. (My friend intends to have her baby in the same hospital my niece was born at, as was my other best friend’s baby.) The difference between a 12 year old and 14 year old is startling. I feel sorrow about not having seen her in so long, trying to figure out what has changed and what remains the same.

It is that understanding of what remains the same which comforts me in both my yoga and Christianity, as well as when I look in the mirror. I know that my love of my niece is unwavering. Her presence fills me with a joy I doubt she understands and I’m certain as a teenager she’d have a hard time expressing—I know I did at that age.

One of the things I learned, or relearned, in India is how much of what we take as a given, as reality is just a cultural construct. For example, the concept of a fixed price is a firm reality in many transactions in America and hardly any in India. When the year begins or ends is also just a construct. I started writing this in the end of December and now it is almost the end of the first week of January—either day could be considered the end of the year, as could any day. Which reveals to me that I can try today to do those things left undone (like finishing this post, along with more significant tasks) and I can stop doing other things (which I won’t get into now.) I hope you join me in beginning anew. Eat better, do more yoga, love with an open heart and whatever else calls to you. Find the Divine in 09!