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?

Gardening as a Spiritual Practice # 6: Acceptance

Acceptance in the Garden
It is officially fall now, and the trees are turning and dropping leaves... the sun rises later and later each day and follows a lower path across the sky throwing long lovely shadows that speak of colder weather on the way. Nights are cooler. Days can be, too. But there are still a few shorter blasts of bright summer-like days that make the colors dazzlingly brilliant and fill autumn hearts with honey-light-warmth. Ahh.

It is time for me to put the gardens to bed... ALL of them. No more squash. No more cukes. The tomatoes and potatoes were trashed by late blight. I am finally over mourning about that one.

Acceptance is ongoing for gardeners. In the spring, we want the weather to be warmer, cooler, wetter, drier. We want the seeds to sprout faster or slower. We wish the compost was hotter, drier, wetter, ...more this, less that. In September, toward the End of Things, we want the summer harvest to go on and on... and on and on... and on. Accepting things as they are, whatever that may be, is challenging. But gardening has a way of insisting that we do just that... accept what is.

Nowadays, in the fall, we must accept that another season is over. The more energetic of us will get invigorated trying out new extending devices... high tunnels, hooped protections... anything to defy the fact that Mother Nature is telling us the Time Is Up for growing food. OK, OK. Some things can still grow. I have leeks, spinach and broccoli out there, and they just chuckle as the nights grow colder and the days shorter. But, my days of processing and freezing goodies from the garden is over!

In the perennial beds, acceptance takes a different form. I really love that flower and want to grow it THERE!  ... but the soil and sun conditions just might tell a different story, a story I don't particularly like. Then again there are those WEEDS that just keep pushing up no matter how much mulch, .... no matter how much pulling or digging is done. I experienced it both ways... not getting what I want, and (yep, lots and lots of this one...) getting a whole lot of what I don't want. I have taken a pretty laid back attitude toward what grows and what doesn't. I know I am supposed to have a PLAN... all nice and neat on graph paper... with overlays for the different times in the season early-mid-late. My garden is more a mix of what I want and what happens. There are some plants that have been moved around and about, trying it out over there after it didn't work over here... sometimes giving up on it altogether. It just wasn't meant to be!

Acceptance in Spiritual Practice

Lao Tsu, an ancient Chinese sage, said it well: Life is a series of natural and spontaneous changes. Don't resist them - that only creates sorrow. Let reality be reality. Let things flow naturally forward in whatever way they like.

Many of our most troublesome tendencies arise when we cannot accept what is. 

Denial ain't a river in Egypt, and much of the world seems to be suffering from it. Denial, that is. Denying reality, fighting reality, forcing and wrestling with reality. As I accept and flow with the changes in my gardens, I find I can more easily accept the changes that occur in the rest of my life. I can live in the present and put down the burden of fretting over past mistakes just as I have put aside the disappointment of no tomatoes and no potatoes this year. I don't choose to worry about next year's crops; they will take care of themselves when the time comes.

That seems to be true of most of my so called "problems". My life, like my garden, is a mix of what I want and what happens.  I learn to accept what is, and Let It Be.