I’m also reminded, in these things, of this path of emotional recovery – of how difficult it can often be.
And then, how some mornings, you can wake up, and you can feel that something’s changed.
You feel different.
You feel rested.
You feel strong.
You learn, as you go along, to really take comfort in these strong times — in these times where you feel healthy — because you know that there’s always more work to do. You know that you’re being prepared to go a little deeper, to walk a little further, to carry something that’s a little bit heavier…
Today is actually one of my favorite days of the year. It’s the day I get to plant my vegetables. I don’t grow from seeds because I don’t have the room, so, I’m going to make the rounds later and pick up some plants.
I’ll get those in the ground. I’ll get my berries into the raised beds that I set up. I’ll uncover the fig tree…
And I’ll have a hell of a good time doing it.
Does all this change the way things are in the world?
Absolutely not.
Does it change the way things are in me?
Hell, yeah.
There’s just something that feels really good about being out here getting my hands dirty.
And since I garden barefoot, getting my feet dirty, too…
A few years ago, I was talking with someone about intention. We were having a discussion about what it means to set sacred intention – or sacred intent – when you’re getting ready to do ceremony.
And so I picked up a pebble and I said to him, “What is this?”
And he said, “It’s a pebble.”
And I said, “No, it’s an altar. Say it.”
And he kind of shrugged, and said, “It’s an altar.”
And I said, “No, believe it. What is it?”
And he said, “It’s an altar.”
And then I said it, and then I put the pebble down on the ground
– the altar down on the ground –
and I said, “Now just sit.”
When we sat there for a few minutes, and I saw the look on his face, I could tell he was feeling it. The energy in the room completely shifted. We were totally grounded.
And then I picked it up again and I said, “This is a pebble. Say it.”
And he said, “This is a pebble.”
And I threw the pebble over my shoulder, and the energy of the room completely changed.
And he got it.
For that short period of time, we were bound together in a sacred space specifically created by our intention, by our belief that that space was sacred.
I am very grateful for everything that’s happened in my life, because it has brought me to those places. It has given me the gift of being able to sit with others without judgment.
And I can say, “Well, that’s the price I have to pay for this privilege.”
Or, I can say, “That’s part and parcel of the privilege. That was my school.”
You don’t get to pick one without the other.
It doesn’t mean you have to like every single aspect of it. It doesn’t mean you’d want to go back and repeat it again, because for love or money, I wouldn’t…
Every single one of us that’s doing our work, that’s trying to get better, that’s trying to heal old wounds…
We’re keeping the lights on.
And we may not have any idea of where the hell we’re going – of what this is all going to look like when the healing finally settles in, but we don’t need to.
If we can just keep putting one foot in front of the other; just pick up the work that’s given to us, carry it until it’s done, set it down, and pick up the next bundle.
I’ve been talking with several people lately about the way things are in the world, and there seems to be this general consensus that even though the external world – the social world – seems pretty chaotic right now, there’s this feeling that the ground we’re standing on spiritually, even emotionally, is pretty solid.
It’s as if we’re being asked to bear more weight, so we’re given a solid foundation to stand on while we do it…
Like you have to stuff every minute of it with something to do, otherwise you’ll go crazy in the silence; just staring at the walls, living inside your own head.
Or does it feel like solitude?
Does it feel open, spacious…quiet, in a gentle kind of way?
Does it feel like it heals you?
Like it refreshes you; gives you time to be with the things that you’ve lived through on the other side of it…
One of the things I really love about these transitional seasons — like fall and spring — where things are busy dying and being born, is that it’s very easy to become aware of the fact that down deep, below all of it, there’s something larger, something much more powerful at work, pushing itself out into the world.
And so, on one level, we see the returning of the plants. We see the first flashes of greens and yellows and pinks and purples. We hear the birdsongs. We see the blossoms, like those in the ornamental Pear trees across the street, and that’s all just really spectacular.
But below that, way down deep, we’re also aware that that’s life… that untamable force pushing itself out into the world as these things, after all the stillness and death of winter…
Have you ever had a moment in your life where something shifted at a really deep level?
Maybe you’re not even sure what it was, but you just felt that change. And you knew that if you said “Yes” to it, that things would never be the same – that there’d be no going back.
And yet, somewhere, deeper down, you also knew that saying, “No” just wasn’t an option…
So, I’ve been spending a lot of time in the backyard lately, taking care of the ceremonial space that our Community uses when we come together on the first Saturday of every month. It needed a little work, so, I’ve been out there doing that, and it’s me taken a couple of days to wrap things up.
At the end of the first day, I was sitting out on the patio, surveying the yard, taking in my work, and as I looked over at that spot, I was hit with the feeling that the energy of the place had shifted dramatically; that the work we’d be doing there would be different from now on.
It would be deeper.
The place felt like it had grown up, like it had become more rooted, become more… solid.
And I also knew without a doubt that I had to say “Yes” to it, and that once I did, there’d be no going back to the way things were before…
Well, it’s that kind of day; the first of many I’ll have in front of me over the next few months. I weeded the garden, brought out the grill, and dug out the Russian Sage from in front of the house.
I grew up hearing, “Ya gotta eat a peck a’ dirt before you die,” and on days like this I’m probably wearing almost that much on my shirt.
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to realize that there’s not a whole lot of things in this world that a good dirt bath can’t cure…
Bonja the Bodger 