Gardening as a Spiritual Practice #7: Sounds of Silence

Sounds of Silence in the Garden
I don't tech up when I am working in the garden. No headphones. No phone. No nothing.

I like it that way.... unplugged.

There really is a "sound of silence". There is the breeze in the trees. There is the humming of bees and other insects at the height of flowering. There is, if you listen closely enough, the sound of things alive and growing!

I love working in my gardens without any devices... just me, the sun, the dirt, and whatever might "speak". Sometimes it is an animal. The chickens, for example, are a constant chatter of cockling and crowing and squawking. The insects, too, have a dim hummmmmmmmmmm as they brush among the flowering plants. The hummingbirds, which were fewer this year, have their own wavelength of shzzzzzzzzz.

I am intrigued that the sounds of farm machinery that occasionally dot my days seem natural and part of the mix. My neighbor is plowing. My neighbor is cutting grass. My neighbor is bulldozing that section of land that needs "adjustment". I am not bothered.

The birds add a lovely set of sounds to the mix. The red tailed hawk who claims this air space will give its screech call from time to time. The nuthatches and chickadees have their peeps and squeaks. The cardinals are some of my favorites with their calls. Now that so many birds have left for warmer climates, the crows awaken us with their caw, caw, caw. And often, there is nothing.... no thing... a beautiful silence that I swim in as I dig in the dirt, transplanting, or weeding, or picking, or simply standing and watching. The sound of silence.

I have witnessed such beauty in that zone. One day, as I picked beans and stood for a moment engulfed by pole beans and corn stalks, there was a subtle SWISH... there in the corn. Just a gentle quiet SWISH. Pollen was thrown into the sunlight, a cloud of pollen... some bee or hummingbird, or other tiny creature feasting on the tassels just .... poof... I stood mesmerized by the delicate cloud of pollen it released and the silent sound of colliding softness. Something small and light smacking right up into something also small and light!

Ahhhhh, my heart sang. I wished, at that moment, that I had had a camera to capture the beauty of that time in space! But my mind's eye captured it and holds it dear.

The great blue heron flies by in silence. The apples grow large and sweet in silence. The butternut squash in the manure pile fatten and ripen in silence. The fruits of my veggie garden do, too. In the perennial beds, the day lilies boast their beauty in silence along with the zinnias and hostas. I float in the silence of this amazing abundance.

Sounds of Silence in Spiritual Practice
I must admit that I have been drawn to religious traditions that sit in silence. It began back in the 70's when I was blessed to spend time with Quakers down on St. John Island in the Virgin Islands. I sat with a small group of folks who believed that "3-4 are gathered in my name", spirit is there. I subsequently have spent time in Unitarian-Universalists churches, Zen Centers, Tibetan groups, Unity groups, Yogananda groups, AA groups, and all appreciate the value of silence. Just sitting. A-waiting.

I prefer the sound of silence to the constant din of contemporary "music" or talk radio. I choose the peace of silence to the cacophony of political argument or self righteous debate. I have always had a predilection for contemplatives like the Desert Fathers, or Rumi, or Thomas Merton. I don't care about their dogma, about what tradition they follow. The contemplatives are united by an appreciation of just BEINGin silence... of awaiting.... of listening when there is nothing to listen to.

In the silence, when all the clammer settles down, there in that silence.... and out of that silence, comes a knowing that cannot be described. It has many names. Higher Power. God. Higher Self. True Self. Original Self. Clarity, intuition. Like clouded water that has been allowed to settle... the particles fall to the bottom revealing the clear water. I love that space.

And, I get to access that peace and that beauty when I am out there sweating and digging and pulling and cutting and getting muddy and dirty out there in the garden.

What could be better?