Turkeys Eating Ticks

 I opened my eyes during meditation this morning and saw 22 turkeys strolling across my lawn. Heads down, alert to their surroundings. They were all pecking at the grass--eating ticks, i assume.

Have you seen the movie My Life as a Turkey? A wildlife rehabilitator raises a clutch of motherless turkey eggs, and he himself sees much more life in the woods than usual because he is seeing as a turkey.

When we look closely at our own inner landscape, we see much more than we usually do. We might see the arising of a thought, the disappearance of a feeling. Last spring, i discovered the earliest warning sign of oncoming sleepiness--heaviness behind my forehead.

Knowing that the turkeys are cleaning my garden and woods of tick pests, i feel much safer.

Tetanus Shot

I went to the doctor for my annual physical exam and received a tetanus shot. It's a good idea for gardeners to get a tetanus booster every 10 years, since 30 percent of tetanus injuries occur in the yard and garden and another 25 percent occur somewhere else outdoors. There's enough rusty garden paraphernalia around my property, and occasional manure too, that a tetanus shot seems like a good idea to me.

Of course, some people don't believe in vaccinations or suspect them of harboring some danger. Yes, there is a minuscule risk. On the other hand, when i hear about a 3-year-old child dying of tetanus because his parents didn't believe in the vaccinations, well, i feel very sad.

How can we inoculate ourselves against the vagaries of life? Can we feel happiness despite conditions?

Contemplate this chant today:

All things are impermanent.

They arise and they pass away.

To live in harmony with this truth

brings great happiness.

How can it be that looking, deeply, at arising and passing away brings us happiness?

The Middle-Aged Garden

One friend says she goes out to her garden every morning and deadheads. I take my garden cart and cut back the foliage of plants that have finished blooming. Now, in the middle of the season, plants are tall; they are middle-aged plants. Soon i have a cart full of dead bodies, which i haul to the compost pile.

Rupa dancing her way out of her living memorial service, cane in hand

Some friends die young. Rupa, a 75-year-old friend died 2 weeks ago. She was so vivacious and full of life. Yet i heard her say last winter that she was ready to go. I'm the one who wasn't ready for her to go.

Here's the chant i learned especially for Rupa's living memorial service 3 months ago--a memorial service that she attended and danced her way out of.

All things are impermanent.

They arise and they pass away.

To live in harmony with this truth

brings great happiness.

Flowers arising and passing.
Friends arising and passing away.

Spring Comes Fast

Yesterday, the trees were a pale green haze, and today the woods is bowl of salad. Life becomes greener by the hour. Change is happening fast!

We love new growth, the young, the unblemished. It makes us feel vibrant, alive.

Then living sets in, and we become calloused. We go on autopilot. We take things for granted.

Everything must change.
Even us.

Parallel Play

My partner Bill and i go outdoors together and engage in parallel play. He does wood; i do dirt. He looks up to the trees around our house; i look down to flowers and weeds. Occastionally we call to each other, "Hey! I need a consultation over here." We enjoy the benefit of an extra pair of eyes and another mind with creative ideas.

In the evening, after dinner, we stroll through the gardens. He plans which branches to prune; i decide which plants to move. The effect is gracious as he subtracts trees at the edge of the woods, and i add flowering plants.

Ceasing and arising. Arising and ceasing. The garden is never the same garden at dawn as it is at dusk.