On Weeding, and other complexities of life . . . 8/10/97 by Rev. Eva S. Hochgraf Please read “Gardening” by Bailey White in Mama Makes Up Her Mind. I don’t know about you, but I have found that this past summer has been great for weeds. After the long, cold wet spring my garden was just full of weeds, and although I’ve dedicated many an afternoon or cool summer evening to their eradication, it seems that they’ve always got the upper hand. So as I’ve set there on my haunches, ripping dandelions from the kale and clover from the basil, grass from the ivy bed, thistles from the lawn, duck weed from the pond side, baby maple trees from the front garden. . . . I’ve had a lot of time to contemplate the idea of weeding . . . and since I’m a minister and prone to this affliction of contemplation of serious subjects, I seem to find serious subjects to contemplate even when I’m doing something rather mundane. Most people, when weeding, probably don’t think about weeding at all. Instead, I imagine they think of the things they need to buy at the grocery store. Or whether or not their friend Dorris decided to ask that guy Irv she met at the bowling alley out to that concert she won tickets for. Or whether the big project at work is going to turn into an even bigger project or whether or not you can convince Gladys who’s feeling rather guilty about something you’re not even going to think about, to do the whole thing for you--in which case you’d get to surf the internet for hours uninterrupted and still look rather official as you sat at your desk wearing your suit and tie and frowning in deep concentration from time to time. But, me, no . . . I’m the type to actually contemplate weeding, so that is what I have done so much of this past season. Usually when I begin to contemplate weeding, I begin by feeling a bit sorry for all the plants who’ve established themselves so nicely and made little plant homes for themselves--put out little plant mailboxes and got the newspaper bug signed up to deliver the paper every morning. You look so established I think, but yet I’m going to rip you up like you have no right to be on this earth at all. and I feel a bit like an all-powerful GOD, capital “G” mind you, choosing who lives and who dies. “Die you crab grass scum,” I say. And then I say to myself “what happened to all that stuff about non- violence you preached about! See deep down you’re just a violent, death crazed maniac like the rest of them.” Of course, not wanting to offend my liberal sensitivities, this sets my deliberations and my machinations with the dandelions into full gear. This is because I truly love gardening, I love beginning with a bare patch of ground and planning and thinking about what would grow there best. I love planting the seeds in the cool moist soil poking them down in with the tip of my finger and burying them, watching for that moment in which you can no longer see the seed, and knowing at that very second you’ve released the process over to something much greater and grander than yourself, something more magical. And the waiting and the watching for the first signs of life, that the magic did occur and that small, inert, bundle of mystery somehow has managed to burst into life and poke through the moist soil with firmness and conviction. Carefully I begin to weed at this time, clearing the way for the specially selected ones--not wanting them to have to compete in this tough world for sunshine, moisture or nutrients. As the days lengthen and warm, I re-visit my garden to help the chosen few along--water, weeding. Sometimes the seeds are planted too close together and some of the chosen few become weeds. I marvel at this--and yet I accept it. How quickly, with only the turning of my mind as I suddenly notice crowding--something cherished becomes trash--pulled up by the roots and tossed in a heap. When gardening, I do this surely and with confidence. I’ve had experience with gardens, I know this works best. Cowardice or squeamishness in the realm of gardening only leads to missed dreams, as the carefully planned bed of beautiful plants becomes a sickly bed of crowded, week, unhappy plants. I have a much harder time with this same lesson in other parts of my life though. Making a plan and choosing to stick with it, to see it flower seems simple enough--yet choosing a plan and then deciding half way through that some of it is no good, and has it be ditched to save the rest of the plan--this is hard. Its somehow harder to see that overcrowding effect in life that’s so clear in gardening. Somehow it seems important to remember our goals and dreams need to be given the room, temporal space, time, your own precious time in order to flourish. Many of the lessons I know from gardening just seem harder to apply in other areas of life. Like the lesson of what makes a plant a weed. Like all of life--plants don’t come with labels that say “weed.” Although wouldn’t it be nice if junk mail came with labels that said, “throw me out,” or evenings out came with labels that said , “not worth going to,” or career paths came with labels that said, “BIG waste of time,” or cars that came with labels that said, “Dud.” Unfortunately, we don’t get that lucky and we have to figure it out for ourselves. Gardening can be deceptive that way. We all have some ideas about weeds right . . . like “dandelions must go,” or “the only good clover’s a dead clover.” But of course clover’s grown by the field- full for hay. And fancy restaurants love to serve fresh dandelion greens-- grown lovingly and carefully by someone, I’m sure! Or just this summer my garden sprouted up tons of baby tomato plants from the compost. They were beautiful, healthy--full of life and eager to yield me luscious tomatoes this summer. I pulled them all out--that was my basil patch they were growing in, and it would never survive all those tomatoes! Life often offers us up healthy tomato seedlings--the question is, will we recognize them for what they are--WEEDS! Or will we be seduced by the thought of sitting on the back deck, cool summer breeze blowing, dressed crisply in our linen suit or dress, a mint julep by our side, as we savor the best home-grown tomato we’ve ever grown. With all that tomato slurping going on in our minds, its sometimes hard to remember that our original vision had been something else entirely. My mother has this problem with junk mail. Every offer she gets she reads and takes seriously. She actually opens and saves every offering of “YOU CAN WIN $5 MILLION DOLLARS INSTANTLY” which perhaps we could forgive her for--because good fortune does strike some. But she also spends time on every other small and insignificant thing which someone sends her--offers for credit cards, sales at stores she never shops at, travel clubs and gimmicks for trips to Florida to learn about a time-shared condo, we’ll repair your roof, fix your gutter, steam your carpet for only $14.95 for 5 rooms. These things gather around her house in little piles, collect on her desk and spill over onto the floor. We all have a certain kind of weed we just can’t see, or seem to understand just why it seems to pick on us. “No one else has a living room this cluttered,” moans a mother with kids toys sprawled from one end of the room to the other. “No one else has to come in after supper and do their homework!” moans the kid who spent the afternoon playing with friends, going to the park and making an incredible Lego creation. The problem lies in not having and sticking with a plan--a life’s plan. Gardening has taught me this. Whenever things in life get weedy or over- grown, wildly out of control--suddenly I’ll remember my garden the summer I was too busy to weed. Having a second baby added too much to my life. It, the garden best left unremembered by most standards, started out haphazardly and without much aid. Tomatoes sprung up from where they had grown last year and squash sprung up miraculously from thin air. In the spring I celebrated their arrival, not having much time to deal with a garden. My then 4 year old, son wanted to grow a few things and we managed to get some seeds in the ground one day. A few weeks later I noticed all I had was an overgrown jungle! I couldn’t tell the good plants from the weeds and where were those seeds that we had planted! I remember this garden when life gets overgrown. A garden needs a few things: 1)A Plan--this helps in life too! 2)Focused attention--a garden can’t grow itself. You need to weed and water, and remember your plan. That’s what I mean by focused attention. This is true of life as well. We may plan to have a tidy house, or more free-time, but unless we can focus our thought on these plans--what we want most out of life, we’ll never accomplish much. 3)Sunlight, Water and Good Soil--in just the right amounts. Now’s a good time to try this on yourself. Sunlight and water--sounds a bit like a beach, doesn’t it! Good soil is the plant’s food, so you could substitute “good food” there. Look out “Escoffier,” here we come. Eating right will help you thrive--maybe we better change that reservation to “Seva”! And carefully nourishing your cherished dreams, whatever they are, will help to see them grow. We’ve all seen the good work that all the people of Marian’s Friends have begun, and continue to do. They have a dream, but instead of just dreaming, they’ve made plan, focused their attention and carefully watered and nourished their dream. With hope and care, these souls will have reached their goal number of signatures in time. It wouldn’t hurt if you took a petition around in your neighborhood or office too! Another dream we’ve seen nurtured along for a long time, is our plan for a new building. To get this far, it has certainly taken a lot of tending and even uprooting of some carefully tended shoots. You notice I’ve picked projects yet unfinished to compliment--and that’s because, like Bailey White and her garden, I think life is more interesting as you do it. That’s really the point of it all, go about it with energy and enthusiasm, a plan and focus, cherishing and loving the process--the weeding. I’ll leave the garden itself for someone else to enjoy. I learned a lot from that overgrown garden. But there is another weeding lesson I like to remember. Every year in my garden, something grows up that looks vaguely like carrot tops. It shows up in different places each year. And each year I look at it and try and decide if its a weed. For some reason, I can never remember about this one. Some years I’m convinced it will grow tall, lanky, and yield small green flowers--looking very ugly and very weedy. Others I’m hesitant, perhaps this actually is something I say to myself. (By that I mean something beautiful, with redeeming qualities for a flower garden.) On those years, by mid-June I starting to doubt myself as the plant, growing wherever it happened to be, begins to assert itself on my landscape--growing larger and looking very hardy. Maybe I should have pulled you up I mutter to its ever-widening greenery. Suddenly, the mystery reveals itself--in the form of Bachelor’s Buttons. Cute little daisy-like creamy white flowers in great bunches coat the once doubted greenery. I always laugh at myself--because I love Bachelor’s Buttons. There’s a lesson to be learned here to--in following your gut from time to time along with your diligence in following your plan. Gardening or otherwise--always remember to leave a little room for the Bachelor’s Buttons of life. Emerson reminded us to live life deliberately, and Buddha asked us to live life with mindfulness. My garden reminds me to keep weeding as I live my life. --To plan what I really want to see what happens. --To carefully set aside those things which are not part of my plan, even if they are beautiful healthy tomato plants. --To allow for the occasional Bachelor’s Buttons. --To thin my plan, uprooting things I’ve cherished and nurtured, if I can’t succeed in my vision otherwise. --And to run my roots deeply, firmly grounding myself in the place I make my home. Happy Weeding!