Weeding Out

     The weeds have gotten out of control with this recent surge of misty weather, so I spent a good chunk of the morning crouching, pulling, and generally getting very muddy. It's a funny thing when there is this dedicated spot of time that is spent doing a relatively menial task with no other distractions. I could have put on music, but I like to hear the birds and I've been trying to regain my focus lately. So what happens is that lots of thoughts run through my head. Much of the time, for some sadistic reason, they are not so pleasant thoughts. I could be thinking about the lovely long stretch of summer ahead, or travel plans, or art ideas, but no. Anxious thoughts, angry thoughts, are what begin to bubble up in my mind like some putrid tar pit. I suppose they need a chance to air out. I've gotten into the habit of always having something going on in front of me - screens, books, radio, list-making - that I have neglected some of the things that I believe are important to good mental health. This might include setting an intention for the day as I learned in yoga, or staying quiet enough to hear the rain, or sifting through some emotional baggage to put a few things to rest.

     So there I was, squatting, and pulling weeds, and getting muddy, and probably furrowing my brow at the thoughts that percolated just behind it. The weeds were endless, my back hurt, and I could feel the mud squashing through my gloves. Then I started piling up the collected weeds around the bottoms of my tomato plants like my grandmotherly Mennonite friend had shown me a few summers ago. She had explained that the weeds dry up, act like a mulch, and help the plant roots stay moist in hot weather. When I would complain about the amount of weeds my garden generated, she would look on the bright side, saying that they served a good purpose for the other plants. Her theory was that everything that came out of the garden should go back into the garden. After that, I was never able to look at the weeds quite the same way again. Instead of feeling like a never ending battle, weeding started feeling like getting something useful for free.

     The world is full of metaphors. No matter if you're pondering the ocean tides or plugging away in the mud, the rhythm of the earth can teach us a lot about our lives. If we were as smart as animals, we would learn to accept the moment as it is and be exceedingly grateful for the simple opportunity to roll in the grass. But with our big human brains, we need lots of reminders, and they are all around us. Just as I learned to be grateful for the weeds, I saw that I could be grateful for the other things that felt thorny in my life. Difficult people, situations, events - they are all sign posts for the ways we ask to be guided.

     Instead of mulling over those people or situations, trying to figure out what went wrong or why they weren't there or who was to blame, I was able to stop the cycle with a thank you. Thank you for taking away these people or situations that no longer serve my greatest good. Thank you for taking away opportunities that would not serve the path I am meant to be on. I want to be the best version of myself and travel a path that will help me to become more fully who I am. Sometimes people are meant to leave our lives, and difficult situations can push or bump us back onto the right path. It doesn't feel great, but it is a loud signal that we most likely asked for. Guide me, show me a sign, help me...I know I mentally say it. I'm trying to realize that the residual feelings are just a side effect. They are a learning tool or a reinforcement of the main message: Not that. Not them. The Universe has weeded them out for you, and now they are helping you grow. Gratitude is something I have to remind myself of, but when I do, I also remember how powerful it is.