Diving for Light, Day 1 - Sanity in the Soil

“It is a huge danger to pretend that awful things do not happen. But you need enough hope to keep going. I am trying to make hope. Flowers grow out of darkness.” - Corita Kent

​There’s nothing unusual about finding me out in the garden at this time of year. Gardening has always been my greatest, best connection with the earth. I love the smell of the soil, the feeling of the loam on my hands, uprooting a wiggling earthworm, the birdsong – all of it. We have about an acre of garden, all told, throughout our property. The sight of flowers, the scent in the air, the earth under my feet are what keep me grounded. 
 
What is unusual this year is all the time I have to do it. As much as I want, in fact. Ordinarily I’m cramming garden time in between work, driving in traffic, “important” errands, and whatever else we humans create for ourselves to be busy. Now, I have all the time in the world to be out there. 
 
Yesterday that amount to two and a half hours. I wrestled with stubborn weeds joyfully, placing all my frustrations into each pull and digging out of each root. I looked at my newly weeded beds and rejoiced at rescuing my plants from the choking chickweed that was threatening to drown them. Afterward, I mulched. And then, I sat back and enjoyed the results of all that creative labor – something neat, something I could control, something beautiful.

My newly weeded and mulched bed in the foreground, my as-yet untouched veggie box behind it.

Now, I know full well that I can never control a garden. I can go out there and weed, and fertilize, and pick off bugs into soapy water, but ultimately, I’m not in charge. My actions change the garden for the better, but I can’t prevent voles, or potato beetles, or slugs. Nor, frankly, would I want to. They all have their place in this world. Gardens are a product of love, of hard work, and of more than a little luck. Mother Nature giveth, and she also taketh away. 
 
In our outer world right now, Mother Nature is making a correction – a course shift, if you will. Gaia has pushed the Reset button. I know I have no control over what is happening, except in my own space. I’m choosing to stay home, to let Dave go out if we can’t find something online to order in. And even then, there’s no guarantees on what’s ahead. I like Corita Kent’s words (above) though, very much. Ultimately, it’s all about hope. Flowers are hope made manifest. 
 
Even if all you have is a windowsill, I hope you can grow a little something. A little hope. A flower or two. 

Exercise to try: 
Finding ground - Take your shoes off and go barefoot in the dirt somewhere. Find your connection with the ground. Breathe deeply and quietly. Listen to the sounds of nature. Close your eyes.

Now, feel your roots deeply entering the ground. Imagine them going down, down into the earth. Feel the support of the earth returning to you through those roots. Breathe in support, breathe out negativity. Rest there a while. When you're ready...

Slowly open your eyes and return to the physical world. How are you feeling? What do you notice?

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​All photos taken by Robbin L Marcus, 2020.