When i go outdoors in the mornings, i stroll around my flowerbeds, clippers in one hand, bucket in the other. I'm dead-heading and propping up flowers, and generally tidying up some flowerbed or other.
At 7:45, i arrive for meditation at my neighbor Connie's, and there she is in her nightgown hauling foot-tall (or more!) weeds out of her vegetable gardens, her hands caked with dirt, and her white nightie pretty well smudged.
For me flowers are the priority; for her vegetables.
The mind loves to compare. So far as i can see, that's all the mind actually does. And in this comparison, the mind wants to divide the world into good and bad, black and white, better and worse. Yet here are Connie and i, two old friends with very different gardening styles, both reaping joy.