Gardening in the Desert: A Meditation

After living in the South for 58 years, I'm discovering a whole new world in the desert. The dry environment is both unforgiving and breathtakingly beautiful, and I'm only beginning to learn about its nature and how to care for it. That's why I was thrilled when a friend who's a horticulturist came for a visit last month. She intimately knows plants, and understands what will grow and flourish in our arid soil. She sees potential. She also sees the invasive species that have taken root there that will limit that potential. Removing the weeds — the plants that aren't beneficial to the ecosystem — is just as important as planting what will thrive. 

As my friend and I walked around the yard, overgrown tendrils of sticky Russian Thistle (aka tumbleweed) grasped at our legs. She pushed past the villains to show me the heroes in the yard that I had overlooked. The small purple Four O'Clocks and the chocolate flower, the geraniums and showy sunflower all came into focus as the distracting, tangle of opportunist growth fell away. 

I scrawled notes in a spiral binder as my friend ticked through her prognosis: Cut down the dead growth to allow the healthy foliage to use the plant's energy. Uproot the invasive plants. Clear the way for good growth. Make the most of what you have. "No need to purchase a lot of new plants from the nursery," she instructed, "Transplant!" Allow sun-loving flora to have their rightful spot. Give shade to tender plants who require gentle light. Let nature be nature by understanding what each distinct plant wants and needs. 

Slowly, I began to realize that our overgrown yard was filled with treasures that I didn't previously appreciate. 

After my friend left, I gingerly walked outside and peered across the overgrown yard. It seemed a bit overwhelming. I sighed. Where to start? The answer came: 

Start where you are, with what is right before you. Right at your feet.

I looked down and before me were the sticky tendrils of tumbleweed. I reached down and firmly grasped the offensive plant at its base and tugged. To my delight, it came up — easily! I tossed it on the walkway. Beyond it was another and another and another. I focused on pulling up tumbleweed and before I knew it, there was a pile of plants four feet high amassed. It was gratifying to see the bare earth left behind. 

Just one of the MANY loads of tumbleweed removed from the yard.

Now that there was less clutter, I could see the good plants that had been choked out by the weeds. The sunflowers had more room to thrive. The Four O'Clocks seemed to breath easier. The delicate Mexican Hair Grass, Baby's Breath, and Partridge Feather could now receive the sun they craved. Just removing that one invasive plant made a huge difference to the look of the property. 

Why had I been reluctant to garden? There was always an excuse. I was too busy with freelance work. It was too hot. I wasn't sure what to do or afraid I'd do something wrong— so I did nothing. But with the right instruction, all those objections fell away. 

As I slowly cleared the yard of tumbleweed, and saw the beauty left behind, I was filled with a renewed appreciation for all of God's creation. I began to wonder how many other areas of my life have I been reluctant to improve because I was stuck without proper instruction or just plain lazy? 

I'm certainly not the first to make this analogy. Vietnamese Buddhist monk and author, Thich Nhat Hahn, writes extensively about the mindfulness practice of cultivating joy in ourselves and others."We need to organize our daily lives so that the positive seeds are watered every day and the negative seeds are not watered," Hahn says. "We call this the practice of selective watering. We water the flowers, not the weeds, so that the flowers will bloom in the other person. When we make the other person smile, we benefit as well. It does not take long to see the result of our practice."

In this way, gardening (in any climate) can become a meditation. Now, when I'm pulling tumbleweeds, I contemplate how I can uproot fears and cultivate joy. I consider what invasive, negative thoughts and actions I might be watering out of habit. And I become curious about the treasures that I haven't fully appreciated in myself and others because I was so focused on negative characteristics.

"We all have seeds of suspicion, despair, and anger," Hahn says. "Every time a negative seed is touched and watered, we suffer. But we can do better than simply not watering our negative seeds; we can water our positive seeds of happiness, loving kindness, forgiveness, and joy."

River Rules

I've been spending more than a little time in the West these days. It's an amazing landscape and the ultimate playground for those who love being in the wilderness. But this brand of nature can be rugged —and even turn deadly in a heartbeat. I've come to appreciate its power and beauty.

Last weekend, I floated on a raft down the Colorado River for the first time. My boyfriend, Greg,  and a gang of our friends packed lots of snacks and beer and prepared for a fun afternoon. All were veterans on the river, except me. 

 
As we prepped for the excursion, the weather turned out to be a little different than we anticipated. Gusting headwinds blew in and made conditions challenging. But my companions assessed the situation, made a few adjustments, and forged ahead with our planned "float."  

Feeling the wind whip up the canyon, I was grateful to climb into a large raft commandeered by two of my new friends, Emily and Lauren, who are professional environmentalists and river guides. As Emily began to row against the wind, I eyed the turbulent water warily. "What do I need to know?" I asked. "What are the rules of the river?" 

Emily and Lauren laughed and then provided me with the four River Rules they've learned in their collective years of experience as water-women. 

River Rule #1: Always stay with your boat/watercraft.
On the river, your vessel carries you from point A to point B. To abandon it prematurely can cause you —and other people — a lot of harm. There are submerged rocks and debris in the rapidly moving water. It might seem like a good idea to jump in and swim, but that craft is going to keep floating. Pretty soon you'll literally “be up a creek without a paddle.” Oh, just in case you do tumble out, never take off your personal floatation device (aka life vest) while in moving water. 

River Rule #2: Keep up with your stuff.
When you're in a boat, and need your paddle or a carabiner or a rope or a beer, it's really helpful to know right where it is and how to lay your hands on it quickly. Sometimes you don't have a lot of time to scramble around and find that thing that's going to keep you from capsizing. 

Also, allowing your stuff to get underfoot can trip you up — or send other people toppling. A raft doesn't have a lot of floorspace to begin with, so allowing your beer cans or provisions to roll about on the floor can cause all sorts of havoc. 

River Rule #3: Don't be an asshole. 
Being an asshole on the river might include, but is not exclusive to the following actions: throwing trash in the water or violating nature in any way; being loud and obnoxious; creating big waves or a wake that could adversely impact smaller, more vulnerable vessels; enacting any behavior that compromises someone else's safety, well-being or enjoyment of nature. 

River Rule #4: Always pay attention.
Yes, you're there to have fun and enjoy the beauty of nature, but being on moving water requires vigilance about whatever lies ahead. The river is unpredictable. There's a fine balance between remaining in the moment, truly appreciating nature's beauty, and anticipating what's coming up around the bend. The river demands that you hold both presence and vigilance in equal esteem. 

No matter how many times you've been on the water, it's never exactly the same river twice. Hazards can come at you without warning, so paying attention —even while you're partying and having a great time — is essential. Rocks, debris, flotsam and jetsam of all varieties can appear quickly. Other boaters and their stuff (see Rule 2) may create unanticipated issues as well. If you become too distracted by someone else's crap, you can lose your balance —or your way — in an instant. 

At first, I thought my friends were simply imparting etiquette about how to behave on this wild and often unpredictable force of Nature. But then it hit me: These are rules that apply to all of life. 

Life Rule #1. Stay with your boat. 
Ego might tell me that I'm strong enough to make it through life without a Higher Power, without a vessel to protect me from unseen hazards, but that's foolish to believe I can exist without Universal assistance. There have been many times when I jumped out of my metaphoric boat and was too foolhardy to ask for help. I didn't drown, but I was carried off by currents that didn't serve others or me very well. 

The good news is this: If I realize I need that vessel, I might just find it waiting for me in a tranquil eddy. I've had to swallow my pride (and set aside my Ego) more than once and admit that I was in over my head and needed a hand. And there have been times when I've been washed up on shore, seemingly abandoned —only to discover that I was exactly where I needed to be in order to (eventually) move forward. 

Life Rule # 2:  Keep up with your stuff.
In life, my stuff has often gotten in my way, tripped me up, kept me from meaningful purpose. On this journey, I'm learning to leave what isn't necessary on the shore. I want to carry only the essentials necessary to sustain me and others. And I need to keep those things in check. I don't need to allow my misdeeds to roll around underfoot. My experiences in life shouldn't create an obstacle course for other people either. My actions are mine to own and (hopefully) learn from and use to become a better human being.

Life Rule #3: Don't be an asshole. 
This one seems obvious and I hope doesn't need any explanation, but just in case it isn't clear, here goes: Avoid any action that's selfish, dishonest, self-centered, inconsiderate, or harmful in anyway to
others, to nature, or to yourself.

Life Rule # 4. Always pay attention.
Thich Nhat Hahn, Eckhart Tolle and many other other esteemed gurus write about the importance of remaining in the moment and taking life as it comes. Life requires the same balance of presence and anticipation as required when floating a river. It can be difficult to allow events to unfold with appreciation and knowledge that shit can and will happen and you have to keep going. 

Just like floating down the Colorado River on raft, life involves going with the flow. You can anticipate the rapids, but you will never be able to manage or control them. The best you can do on the river and in life is to be conscious of the hazards, prepare yourself for the inevitable, and keep moving forward. And of course, it's always a good idea to stop every now for a cold beer and a snack to makes the journey that much more enjoyable.

PS: Need help planning your own adventure in the southwest? Check out my friend Emily's awesome Southwest Jeep Adventures for trip planning services or camper Jeep rentals! 

Lesson of the Week: Befriend the Tigers

Lessons are given to us all the time. Maybe it's just that I'm aware of some theme or issue and everything becomes relevant, but lately my lessons have been more of the hit-me-over-the-head kind. I know I can be rather dense at times, but honestly sometimes I think God or karma or the Universe or whatever has really got my number. This is good. I need to be called up on a regular basis and have things explained to me in the simplest terms possible.
   Recently, the lesson I received was "remain in the present."
   I'm on the list for several daily or weekly inspirational meditations and it's weeks like these when the messages from this disparate authors (a Catholic priest and a Buddhist nun) jive up as if they were conferring with one another. Then, as I need more affirmation, I turn to the pages of my three secular daily meditation books, I'll be damned if those books don't start in on staying present as well.
   So fine. I get it. I needed to remain in the present because my run-away thoughts keep making me miserable. And I have to admit that as soon as I redoubled my efforts to be happy with my life exactly as it is, I do feel happier.
   And although I know being anxious is borrowing from the future, I can't help it. I suppose most people feel that wave of uncertainty from time to time. But I am especially anxious when making decisions these days and that's odd for a woman who has been extraordinarily decisive for most of her life. Remaining in the present helps relieve the anxiety. But what helps me most to stay in the present is realizing that my feelings of anxiety are actually positive, not negative.

   Daniel Smith published an excellent opinion piece on anxiety in the New York Times recently. Its title: The Anxious Idiot. For him, anxiety is expressed as doing nothing to aid his afflictive, fearful feelings. He shuts down, finds himself stuck. And that is when self-awareness works best—when I'm stuck and I can no longer run away from whatever it is that's causing my discomfort. 

   Before you start thinking I've lost my PollyAnna mind, think about it. Anxiety, anger, fear and sorrow are signals that something in my life is out of balance. These adverse emotions are beacons—like the Bat Signal—that shine an irrefutable light on what's going on in my life. So when a feeling of uncertainty rises up inside,  instead of setting aside my anxiety by distracting myself with other thoughts or projects or people or a margarita sans salt, I need to sit and consider what it is that's actually making me anxious. Yes, easier said than done.
   For anyone who is interested in getting to the root of anxiety, Vietnamese Buddhist master Thich Nhat Hanh has some beautiful meditations on how to go about it. He is so gentle with these emotions that his words are like those we use to comfort a tiny infant. And indeed, these are childish emotions, emotions learned in childhood and bent out of the fears of childhood, fears such as abandonment, loss, neediness, lack of attention.

Jack befriends a baby tiger at the Little Zoo That Could
in Gulf Shores, Ala., July, 2011.

    I am trying to be more gentle with my fears and anxieties. Instead of sweeping them aside, I gather them up, swaddle them in the warmth of compassion by trying to remember back to the point in time when I first felt that same feeling (which by no small coincidence is most often during childhood.) Then I listen to what those feelings are trying to tell me. Usually it's some variation on the theme of, "I'm scared my life is not turning out as I planned." To which now—with the help of Buddhist practice and study—I can say, "Good! Because your plan pretty much sucked and there's something so much better out there than your pea brain could ever imagine—if you stop planning, let go of the future and just focus on making choices that are healthy for you."
   As I was writing this essay, I received another related message. This time it was my weekly email from the Tibetan Buddhist nun Pema Chodron. Here's what she shared:

   "There is a story of a woman running away from tigers. She runs and runs, and the tigers are getting closer and closer. When she comes to the edge of a cliff, she sees some vines there, so she climbs down and holds on to the vines. Looking down, she sees that there are tigers below her as well. She then notices that a mouse is gnawing away at the vine to which she is clinging. She also sees a beautiful little bunch of strawberries close to her, growing out of a clump of grass. She looks up and she looks down. She looks at the mouse. Then she just takes a strawberry, puts it in her mouth, and enjoys it thoroughly.

Tigers above, tigers below. This is actually the predicament that we are always in, in terms of our birth and death. Each moment is just what it is. It might be the only moment of our life, it might be the only strawberry we’ll ever eat. We could get depressed about it, or we could finally appreciate it and delight in the preciousness of every single moment of our life."