Sunday, May 1, 2016

A Rainbow of Potatoes

I planted potatoes yesterday--red, gold, and blue--while the moon is still waning. If you believe in planting by the moon, underground vegetables, such as potatoes, onions, carrots, beets, and parsnips, grow better when they are planted in the dark of the moon.

My sweetie hasn't liked potatoes because, he says, "they are starchy." But now that he has a bushel of allergies, potatoes are one of the few vegetables he can eat. That makes me happy: i remain a steadfast lover of potatoes.

I cut up the seed potatoes, leaving 2 eyes in each piece. Then i waited for 24 hours to plant them, eyes up.

Oh, if only we ourselves could "see in dark." The potatoes have to feel their way through the soil. They have no idea what color they are. To them, it makes no difference. For just a moment, can you feel your way through the (scary?) dark and feel the is-ness of life without words or labels?

Saturday, April 30, 2016

I Hoed a Toad

This morning, while planting potatoes, i hoed a little
toad right out of the ground. She was surprised, and i was surprised.

Maybe you've felt sort of stunned yourself. For instance, when you're on retreat and something unexpectedly bubbles up from the sub-conscious or the unconscious. Maybe it's sort of ugly, which is a good reason to have repressed it all this time.

I just reviewed the last 12 hours of my father's life (18 years ago), and i suddenly saw it in an entirely different light.

Bringing things to light is part of what is called the purification process. We purify our minds, just like water is purified.

Surprising, yes! And unexpected. And lighter. I feel lighter without that dark thing hiding underground.

Thursday, April 28, 2016

Gazing Globe on the Ground

A silver gazing globe blew off its stand a couple of weeks ago, and i haven't picked it up. It sits there on the ground waiting for me to decide what to do. This morning 2 little sparrows were running around it, looking at themselves in "the mirror" and scaring themselves

Isn't this exactly what we do when we worry? We look into our mirror-mind, which is simply a big projection screen, and we see... An intruder! An intruder into our space! (Never mind that this thought is a creation of the mind.)

Like those little brown birds, the redpolls, we jump, we startle. And we keep replaying the event, the situation in our mind. Running around and around the gazing globe mirror. Aaagghhh!!!

We fail to notice the places where we don't see our projection in the mirror-mind. There's one good viewpoint, and we keep going back to it. Notice that space, the place where the thought is not. That's the place of Wise View.

Saturday, April 23, 2016

Ramps for Lunch

I dug ramps today. Ramps, also called wild leeks, are one of the earliest foods to forage from the forest. Ramps smell like garlic, but cooking quickly dilutes the garlic flavor. If you're making ramp pesto, do NOT add garlic.

It feels appropriate, this day-after-Earth-Day to dig my lunch out of the earth--ramps sauteed in butter with pasta, which is not me, and not mine.

Earth "element"--of leeks--goes in my mouth. Still not me and not mine.

Sometime tomorrow, an unrecognized version of earth element--my composted lunch--will exit via the trapdoor at the bottom of my torso. Earth element returns to earth. Still not me and not mine.

Ramps--a fun meditation on the relationship of how my body is entirely dependent on the earth.

Friday, April 22, 2016

Dear Sweet Violets

Violets are blooming in the lawn. Dear sweet violets.

Violets are such an old-fashioned flower. Being edible, they are very pretty in salads. Or imagine having the time to make candied violets. Imagine having the time to pick a violet bouquet!

The violet's heart-shaped leaves remind us to practice good will and loving-kindness

Thursday, April 21, 2016

Bird's-Eye View

Yesterday, i went for lunch to a friend's third-floor apartment. The window beside the kitchen table looked out on a budding maple tree, which made me feel like i was in a tree house. Those buds and tiny flowers are beautiful up close--30 feet up in the air. A real bird's-eye view.

If we had a bird's eye view of our life, how would it look? Encased in our five or six feet of skin, flesh, and bone, it all feels up close and personal. Very I-me-mine.

But what if we could look at that person walking down the street in our body or driving a car from an altitude? What if we could see the big picture?

Hmmm, we might say. She's so worried, so busy in her own mind, and she's really missing the beauty all around her.

Like the spring green springing forth Like the budding maple trees. Oh, joy! Joy is right here.

Wednesday, April 20, 2016

The Squirrels Plant My Bulbs

I'm not too happy when the snowplow "transplants" some my perennials for me, but i rather enjoy it when those rascal squirrels and chipmunks transplant various bulbs.

Walking on a woodland path, i find cobalt blue squill. Now how did that get here? Near another path, I have a colony of the aptly named squirrel corn, a relative of Dutchmen's breeches. And how did that get there?
Squirrel Corn
I guess squirrels are gardeners too. I knew they planted acorns, and now i know they plant bulbs and wildflowers.

What are we planting today, this week in our minds and in our hearts?

You can't beat that perennial bloomer, mindfulness.