R.I.P.

…this old bucket.

Here she is on my sidewalk...

I did the math, and I believe she’s been with me for a solid 10 years.  She has harbored many a leaf and twig en route to the compost.

And a few other things too…

Here she is against my neighbor's security gate...

Bucket Prayer

Almost couldn’t throw her away

but it was time to let go

I’ll miss the way that she held me so

Her handle long busted

her surface cracked with dirt

still i trusted her vessel

like i wear my own shirt.

Jen will miss you too...

What if?

What if our religion was each other
If our practice was our life
If prayer, our words
What if our temple was the Earth
The forests were our church
Holy water – the rivers, lakes, and oceans
What if meditation was our relationships
If the teacher was life
If wisdom was self knowledge
If love was the center of our being?
–  Ganga White

Spring feels like a prayer these days

(whatever your version of prayer…).

The  new foliage is simply bursting with a feeling of “let’s do this again…“Let’s do LIFE again this year, this decade, this millenium, this cycle.

On and on.  Endlessly.

Borage blossoms held in loving hands

Speaking of on and on…

The aphids on one of my (client’s) roses were so abundant today–the unopened buds were completely covered.  Brilliantly disguised, the bugs almost exactly matched the color of the leaves.

As I stood there looking at them, admiring the way they were clustered and how well they were feasting, I inevitably started to think about endings.  Death. These aphids could not be much longer for this world (for a series of complex reasons I won’t now go into but which gardeners will understand.  Aphids are a cyclical phenomenon…)

The aphids were going to die, sadly.  They were literally sucking the life out of my rose blooms, and stunted rose blooms look well, less gorgeous.

Lately I must admit to having very mixed feelings about the way I (as a gardener) destroy and create habitat.  I move a pot and a whole clan of Rolly Pollies runs for cover.  Moms and dads and kids.  Then I must sweep…some of the little guys get swept away and join the compost bin.  Some become injured and die.

It doesn’t seem right that I should have so much control over the destiny of another being, and yet this is a part of life’s cycle too.  Even as I advocate for treading lightly and carefully, I don’t believe one can refuse to take a step for fear of crushing the numerous things beneath one’s feet.   Similarly one can’t possibly take into account all the ways our actions contribute to another’s destiny. Life and death must coincide and continue to dance, to give and take.   We are no exception to the rule.  We too will die and our bodies will become soil.

This week I lost a friend.  Her name was Marion.  As her death was so unexpected, it gave many of her friends pause:  we didn’t realize how fully we appreciated her until she was gone.   All our future plans were simply and suddenly wiped away.

I want to say thank you to Marion for making relationships her meditation, her priority, and setting a beautiful example of how well we can love.  She was truly remarkable in this way.  And on goes the cycle…

Love you Marion.