My garden space has been reminding me about perspective lately. With 6omph winds and flooding rain several days in a row, my plants were broken, leaning, and looking like they were on their way out. The bugs came right behind and with more forecasted rain, there’s not a lot you can do organically knowing things will wash out anyways. So I propped up my corn and tattered squash vines, picked up all the broken off vegetables, plant limbs, leaves, and branches (luckily nothing too big fell directly in the beds!) and hoped for the best.
Picture Gallery Above: Tattered squash and corn after first round of Texas storms; there was so much clean up after second and third, I didn’t have the heart to take pictures.
It was an emotionally charged week to begin with and this just made me all sorts of frustrated. My thoughts went immediately to all MY hard work wiped away and nothing to show for it. I should just pull up everything and prep for planting the fall crop. Oh, poor ME! Luckily life kept me busy and focused in other areas so that I didn’t wallow in self-pity long enough to reactively rip up all the plants I thought were goners. Ironically, some of these plants have proven to be more resilient that I had thought!
See that’s the thing- I think I know what will thrive or survive, what’s the right balance of beneficial bugs to those that are not, soil amendments, etc. How many times have I tried to tip the balance in favor of what I thought was best only to end up on the other extreme of the spectrum? Anyone who has tried to grow something big or small, knows that these over-thinking and over-reactions only bring heartache and frustration. Perhaps that’s the real lesson: self awareness and patient improvement. Really nothing to do with the plants, hmm?
A recent chat about gardening with my sister reminded me that we are only stewards; we are simply working alongside Mother Nature and she knows best. When I come from a perspective of tending to and nurturing, it transforms my experience of gardening (and life!) from control and dominance to a caretaking partnership that notices the world around me with a sense of awe and wonder. My gardening shifts from a lonely venture to a wonderful dance with the living community I am only a small part of. The plants, microbes, bugs, birds, and wildlife show me I am part of their community and a process much larger than myself and even larger still than what I can feasible envision. With my steward-perspective, I not only become more responsible for my interactions within this community, but naturally adopt an overwhelming sense of carefulness and patience. How can this attitude not ripple into other areas of my life!
With this expanded mindset, my greatest tool in the garden (and in life) becomes awareness. Do I have enough trust that things will work out how they are supposed to be to walk away and take my frustrations with me? To wait and see what happens? To see the lesson behind the initial frustration? With a more objective point of view it becomes clear that either the plants make it or I start prepping for the next go around. What direction balance is restored is not entirely up to me (although my ego tells me otherwise!). If I choose to, I can learn something either way regardless of the outcome.
Especially reflecting on the last six months, I have only begun to realize the profound implications of micro-macro-shifts-of-perspective in my life. The challenge for me seems to be zooming out enough to see the overarching patterns around me, to look for the effects of my inaction or action, and to see how my environment in turns affects me as well. There are days where I have the same overwhelming reaction I did to my weathered-and-bug-beaten garden: throw in the towel, what’s the point?
Picture Gallery Above: Bumble bee on milkweed; green bell peppers knocked off by storms, squash nabbed and tasted by squirrel; one crook-neck to neighbor, one knocked off by storms.
But if I can take take a larger perspective, there is always something I can turn my attention towards that is constructive and building up rather than tearing down. This takes continual practice! Yes it is a difficult truth to admit that the aphids and squash-vine-burrows are eating my vegetables, but perhaps I can also acknowledge that I have more bumblebees dancing on my flowers than ever before, that I have had vegetables to share with my neighbors, or the delight of eating 3/4 of a squash that the squirrels left behind… and that my garden life is more resilient than I realize. Last year I continually chased out the birds to prevent them eating all my seeds- this year I put out extra seeds and they’ve been eating the bugs instead! I ended up with too many plants and the storms served as way to thin the crop. All the more reason to persevere in attuning to an attitude of abundance rather than scarcity.
These are clarifying moments that can serve as reminders for us to find meaning, increased connection, or to intentionally seek serenity within our lives. What does this have to to do with yoga? Everything. The 8-limb practice of yoga continues to teach me the importance of cultivating inner awareness- to unveil these hidden patterns that cause suffering and that prevent me from seeing the interconnected beauty in life. I am practicing daily a stewardship attitude in my life beyond the garden and reminding myself that there are no failures. When I fall short (and I realize it!) it serves as a turn around to recognize and interrupt a pattern that may be isolating. So I continue to grow, to learn, and to watch as new areas of my life unfold to reveal a profound interconnectedness that I no longer wish to ignore.
With isolation and misunderstanding a pandemic in and of itself, perhaps Mother Nature and yoga have the healing balms that can bring us together. I encourage you to go sit in the sunshine for a minute or two, to simply notice the birds singing in trees, to be present with a loved one and not distracted, to feel your feet on the ground wherever you are, or to expand beyond our expectations and frustrations if just momentarily. I challenge you further to see where you can shift your perspective, to build awareness in little ways each day, and to acknowledge patient improvements. These practiced moments of awareness that foster connection and belonging open us up to larger possibilities beyond our limited perspectives.
Picture Gallery Above: This is the second round of corn planted after the first was taken out by rain, wind, and hail- there’s black carpenter bees all over; sunflower and a wild, whitemouth dayflower; a muddy Petunia the Pig; squash of some sort because I don’t remember what all I planted!