There is something about persisting. Last Spring the vegetable garden looked beyond salvation. But we persisted because we knew somewhere in the thicket of stinging nettles and various noxious growth lay our good intentions for eating loca-mindfully. Notice that I didn’t call the rampant flora “weeds.” I’m finding it harder and harder these days to use words that betray my blindness and my preferences. Keeping the ever-spinning wheel of dependent arising in mind, how can I label something as not belonging when it has simply moved into the space I created by moving out.
Still, there were boxes that leaned more towards the nomadic type of plant life. So this Spring we decided to let the two Western-most containers house various grasses and the occasional volunteer squash vine while we reclaimed – yet again – the others for tomatoes, lettuce, chard, chili peppers, and (something new!) eggplant. It was an easy negotiation – much easier than the one I tend to have with myself about the boundaries between mental order and chaos. And so far the pact is being honored, even after all the heavy rain and blistering heat which would make the mulch sprout.
I suppose there is little that is beyond salvation if we’re willing to dig deep enough, negotiate wisely enough, and allow enough time and space to focus on the essentials. Most all, there is little that won’t change or rearrange with sufficient persistence. Showing up each season, each day, each moment is all it takes.