A beautiful thing happened. Even now as I try to explain it - it has drifted into the past. Thousands of tiny plants that one might call weeds had sprung up in my newly landscaped garden. Encroaching like a dark force, mocking the mulch and efforts at design and neatness. Then I got a happy idea; I could sit and pull tiny weeds with no hurry while I listened to my new Eckhart Tolle CD, and nibbled dark chocolate with orange. Eckhart Tolles Findhorn Retreat. Suddenly, the green carpet transformed from an endless task, a banner for all to see of my failure at time management; to a wonderful excuse to be out in nature while listening to one of my favorite teachers. Each gravel misplaced into the bark mulch was timelessly set back into the driveway. Little plants were smelled, felt, seen, and thanked for pulling up nutrients to the surface. Old stories of disappointed partners and annoyed landscapers, of poverty farm subsistence, dropped away. The garden was beautified as only one can be, one moment at a time. No need to gaze at the overwhelming row of work, only the beauty of the current movement and plant. Finally, disk two ended. I had enjoyed the sunset, and the moon was up. Eckhart said, stay, until you feel ready to move. I lay down in the gravel of my driveway, and saw the beauty of a golden street light against a purple-blue sky, with soft clouds. I noticed the jet-black wires crossing, and the purple hue the stucco had taken on. A person walked by, but I was not afraid. They were just part of the moment. My garden is returning to me - or I am returning to the garden.
Posted on: Mon, 01 Dec 2014 02:00:54 +0000
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