Corn! The corn is high in the garden. This is my proof of faith for the day.
I never realized how tall corn is, I've only seen it from my car window or at the least 10 feet away. To stand in front of a corn stalk is pretty wonderful. Some are 6 feet tall. The have sprouted at the top and a few are flowering corn out of their sides. It feels like such a feat. To think that a couple of months ago I stuck some corn kernels in the ground and now they've made numerous corn kernels. It's abundance in action.
Most of the corn I planted came from some of that beautiful decorative corn that you buy at harvest to look festive during the fall. It came in many colors, some black kernels, some a deep crimson red, and others were a marble of red, black and yellow. The fun is going to be opening each husk and finding out what's inside.I wait like a kid at Christmas, outside my garden door. Yet I have patience. I know they are not ready and I want them to be gorgeous at harvest. Indeed, the concept of harvest is becoming more than the title of a classic, rooted, and much enjoyed album.
Showing posts with label abundance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label abundance. Show all posts
Monday, August 10
Tuesday, July 7
Moving Mountains #23
There here! They finally made it through the dirt. My mind has been occupied with Tulsi Holy Basil. Yes. I'm a total dirt geek at heart coming into my own greenthumbness. I've been waiting and praying for the Holy Basil to rise up after feeling so guilty for letting it die last year without making one glass of tea, drying one leaf for tea, or planting one seed for the next year. Today I was reminded that its not about me. That the seed will rise again.
Last year I bought a Tulsi Holy Basil plant with great dreams of making my own tea and cultivating my own plants. I kept it in a large pot and watered it a few times a week. I always remembered I was going to make tea out of my plants in the garden at the precise moment I was drinking the healing Tulsi Basil Tea from a box I bought at the store. So I've carried this guilt since last September when the potted plant finally DIED (I thought). In fact it had gone to seed.
I'm still learning the flow of the seasons. I'm still learning the rhythm of the bursting life the spring, the seed pods that grow in the summer, the abundant harvest of the fall and the silent restful time of nature in winter. This rhythmic flow never stops, like a carousel without a timer. My job is to jump on and enjoy.
So when the Tulsi Holy Basil popped up in my garden in droves this week, I didn't believe it at first. I thought all those little plants were weeds. I picked them all and headed for the trashcan until I smelled that familiar intoxicating smell of the healing basil that is called Holy Basil. My faith was restored when I was reminded of nature's transcendent rhythm.
Last year I bought a Tulsi Holy Basil plant with great dreams of making my own tea and cultivating my own plants. I kept it in a large pot and watered it a few times a week. I always remembered I was going to make tea out of my plants in the garden at the precise moment I was drinking the healing Tulsi Basil Tea from a box I bought at the store. So I've carried this guilt since last September when the potted plant finally DIED (I thought). In fact it had gone to seed.
I'm still learning the flow of the seasons. I'm still learning the rhythm of the bursting life the spring, the seed pods that grow in the summer, the abundant harvest of the fall and the silent restful time of nature in winter. This rhythmic flow never stops, like a carousel without a timer. My job is to jump on and enjoy.
So when the Tulsi Holy Basil popped up in my garden in droves this week, I didn't believe it at first. I thought all those little plants were weeds. I picked them all and headed for the trashcan until I smelled that familiar intoxicating smell of the healing basil that is called Holy Basil. My faith was restored when I was reminded of nature's transcendent rhythm.
Thursday, May 28
Potlatch
As an undergraduate student of anthropology I could not grasp the concept of the potlatch ceremony. Potlatch, or "give away," is a grand ceremony which generates much praise and prestige for the party giver. This concept is still shared by many indigenous cultures in which family leaders host a feast that takes them most of the previous year to create. This feast is then shared with the rest of the community.
I'm reminded of Gatsby, a man who threw lavish parties and expected nothing in return, a concept very much like a potlatch. However, he was seen as weak, as nouveau-riche. He was taken advantage of by insouciant yet arrogant old-money guests until he lost his life in a case of mistaken identity. Ah, such is life in a culture that prizes accumulation of wealth over its redistribution and reciprocation.
I remember the pictures in my anthropology textbook of piles and piles of bear skins, of drums, endless baskets of food, goods, clothing, and the ethnographic stories of countless dances and shows. Sometimes these ceremonies were highly competitive contests where the recipient destroyed the gifts being exchanged. I could not wrap my head around the idea that redistributing the wealth would make a person appear more wealthy and prestigious in their community. How much faith does a person have to have in the abundance of all things to give away so freely?
In our culture, "give away," is associated with fear, with lack. One hundred and eighty degrees from potlatch is attach -- where wealth & status are based on what we accumulate. We have learned from our ancestors before us to give away the things we least desire, things no longer useful and call it "charity." We give away our trash and our scraps, yet we expect abundance in return. I have never realized how incongruent that way of thinking is until this moment.
For the last week I have connected more to my garden, to the vibrancy of life in the spring. Life moves very fast in the garden. It is a great place to connect to the flow of life. When a plant such as a zucchini fruits, you must pluck it and eat it. If not, it will rot on the vine, or rot in your refrigerator. The garden never stops growing. It grows, bears fruit, dies, comes back, bears fruit again in an endless cycle.
Last year I had a beautiful crop of lettuces. It was my first crop, very abundant. I prospered, overflowed with lettuce. I did not pick it. Every day for a week I stared at it wondering, "Do it pluck the leaves, or pull the whole plant? I don't know." So I left it, (probably went to the grocery store and bought lettuce). When I came back it had flowered, which I found out makes the leaves bitter. Still not plucking or pulling, I came back even later to a bed of lettuce covered with bugs. They had waited for me long enough.
In previous centuries, indigenous tribes lived within the vibrant cycle of life which we are now removed from in the abundance and prosperity of our wealth of goods, shops and access. I've always thought of faith as something very ethereal. However, when I consider the garden, faith becomes very nurturing because I know the plants are coming back, I know the sun will shine tomorrow. If not tomorrow, then the next day.
I'm reminded of Gatsby, a man who threw lavish parties and expected nothing in return, a concept very much like a potlatch. However, he was seen as weak, as nouveau-riche. He was taken advantage of by insouciant yet arrogant old-money guests until he lost his life in a case of mistaken identity. Ah, such is life in a culture that prizes accumulation of wealth over its redistribution and reciprocation.
I remember the pictures in my anthropology textbook of piles and piles of bear skins, of drums, endless baskets of food, goods, clothing, and the ethnographic stories of countless dances and shows. Sometimes these ceremonies were highly competitive contests where the recipient destroyed the gifts being exchanged. I could not wrap my head around the idea that redistributing the wealth would make a person appear more wealthy and prestigious in their community. How much faith does a person have to have in the abundance of all things to give away so freely?
In our culture, "give away," is associated with fear, with lack. One hundred and eighty degrees from potlatch is attach -- where wealth & status are based on what we accumulate. We have learned from our ancestors before us to give away the things we least desire, things no longer useful and call it "charity." We give away our trash and our scraps, yet we expect abundance in return. I have never realized how incongruent that way of thinking is until this moment.
For the last week I have connected more to my garden, to the vibrancy of life in the spring. Life moves very fast in the garden. It is a great place to connect to the flow of life. When a plant such as a zucchini fruits, you must pluck it and eat it. If not, it will rot on the vine, or rot in your refrigerator. The garden never stops growing. It grows, bears fruit, dies, comes back, bears fruit again in an endless cycle.
Last year I had a beautiful crop of lettuces. It was my first crop, very abundant. I prospered, overflowed with lettuce. I did not pick it. Every day for a week I stared at it wondering, "Do it pluck the leaves, or pull the whole plant? I don't know." So I left it, (probably went to the grocery store and bought lettuce). When I came back it had flowered, which I found out makes the leaves bitter. Still not plucking or pulling, I came back even later to a bed of lettuce covered with bugs. They had waited for me long enough.
In previous centuries, indigenous tribes lived within the vibrant cycle of life which we are now removed from in the abundance and prosperity of our wealth of goods, shops and access. I've always thought of faith as something very ethereal. However, when I consider the garden, faith becomes very nurturing because I know the plants are coming back, I know the sun will shine tomorrow. If not tomorrow, then the next day.
Saturday, May 23
Trusting the Evidence
New Mexico is vibrant today with thundercloud skies and bursting new life in the plants and animals. Thirty-three of us have gathered for a holiday weekend retreat, some old friends, some new. We are here to meditate on, what it means to thrive, on connecting to the land, and to the brilliance of spring renewal-- of raven baby chicks ready to fly the nest any day now, of new baby lettuces from the garden. There's always a little bit of a "Big Chill," quality at these retreats -- people gathering from New York, LA, Chicago, Texas and places in between. Some I haven't seen in a while, others whose names I am just learning bear timeless faces I feel I've known forever.
What has come up very strong for me since I've been here is to understand -- and FEEL all over my body and know in my heart that the universe will provide for me. Here is the deal: I have so many blessings in my life, yet I still struggle with the same old tired mindset that exists in survival mode. As we began our discussion yesterday I compared myself now to myself in the past, "I'm doing better, therefore, I am thriving? My garden improves every year. I feel more balanced between the ranch, the healing business, mothering, writing.
The challenge with the thriving or surviving question goes back to exchange, faith, and worth. In survival mode the mindset is about getting: I need more money, I need to get this or that done, I need to treat my body better, I need to do more writing. Whatever the need is, it is dominant.
So how do I trust in the abundance in my life? How do I trust in the faith of the concept of give-away -- that the more I give, the more I get? That it will continue when I'm not focused so much on what I need and instead focus on what I love to do? Well, that is why I am here this weekend, surrounded by people I love, that have chosen to be here this weekend to explore these same lessons of thriving over surviving and other lessons about the land and what it teaches us.
What has come up very strong for me since I've been here is to understand -- and FEEL all over my body and know in my heart that the universe will provide for me. Here is the deal: I have so many blessings in my life, yet I still struggle with the same old tired mindset that exists in survival mode. As we began our discussion yesterday I compared myself now to myself in the past, "I'm doing better, therefore, I am thriving? My garden improves every year. I feel more balanced between the ranch, the healing business, mothering, writing.
The challenge with the thriving or surviving question goes back to exchange, faith, and worth. In survival mode the mindset is about getting: I need more money, I need to get this or that done, I need to treat my body better, I need to do more writing. Whatever the need is, it is dominant.
So how do I trust in the abundance in my life? How do I trust in the faith of the concept of give-away -- that the more I give, the more I get? That it will continue when I'm not focused so much on what I need and instead focus on what I love to do? Well, that is why I am here this weekend, surrounded by people I love, that have chosen to be here this weekend to explore these same lessons of thriving over surviving and other lessons about the land and what it teaches us.
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