Take a deep breath
February 04, 2008
This is not how it's supposed to be, I know. I keep an endless mental list of the things that need to be done. But when a grey day comes, when the horses stand over their hay as though there were all the time in the world to eat it, one of the things that needs to be done is to sit still. Verlyn Klinkenborg
Outside my window, the afternoon winter sky is the color of burnished pewter. It's as if you can see the cold. Our thermometer reads 26 degrees. (I recognize that 26 degrees does not qualify as cold, especially to people in Michigan, where I was raised. When I was a kid, it didn't count as cold unless your nostrils stuck together when you breathed.) But 26 gets our attention here in the Pacific Northwest, and the ground will be frozen (at least the top couple of inches) for a few days. My garden beds are clear of spent perennials and herbaceous plant material, and the remaining shrubs have been pruned. Winter solstice has passed (our shortest day had only eight hours of light) and we know now, that each day will get longer and longer. It is easy to be fixated on Spring.
There is one minor problem: My spring garden is still well over a month away.
That doesn't sit well with me.
In my garden magazines, springtime is sexy and intoxicating and invigorating. Winter is. . .emptiness, an exposed and open space.
I can see green daffodil nibs breaking the soil's surface, so my mind races with plans and ideas and lists full of stuff-to-do. My pond needs completion. I will add roses to the lower bed. And I still need to move several shrubs from the horseshoe bed to make room for a new pathway.
My garden, however, is not in a hurry.
My garden knows that this is the season for rest. Downtime. Dormancy. Il dolce far niente (Italian for "the sweetness of doing nothing"). Dormancy is a disagreeable companion to our wired psyche. To make matters worse, our computer driven vocabulary throws a monkey wrench in our way of thinking. Wikipedia tells me that downtime "refers to a period of time that a system is unavailable or offline, usually a result of the system failing to function." In other words, downtime is an imperfection, and must be avoided. Our response? Get "back online," get the system up and running. As if downtime is something from which we need to recover.
We live in a world that sees any empty--"non-productive"--space as an indictment. So we are compelled to fill every void quickly, with stuff, busyness, activity, distractions, commotion and any number of well-meaning goings-on. And we lose the restorative power of dormancy.
The Hebrew word for rested, vyenafesh, can mean rest, or ensouled, breath, to catch one's breath, sweet fragrance, passion, and inner being of man. A nefesh can also mean a living being. In the context of Sabbath, God ensouled this day when He rested.
Dormancy ensouls a garden.
Downtime (Sabbath, Dormancy) ensouls my heart. And my life.
Today, I need to let my garden be my teacher.
Today I put down my garden to-do list. I let the empty garden breathe. I let my mind rest. There is a fire in our fireplace, and I have picked up John Thorne's newest cookbook to keep me company. Outside my window, the trees are without leaves. Blank. And exquisitely beautiful.
There is one minor problem: My spring garden is still well over a month away.
That doesn't sit well with me.
In my garden magazines, springtime is sexy and intoxicating and invigorating. Winter is. . .emptiness, an exposed and open space.
I can see green daffodil nibs breaking the soil's surface, so my mind races with plans and ideas and lists full of stuff-to-do. My pond needs completion. I will add roses to the lower bed. And I still need to move several shrubs from the horseshoe bed to make room for a new pathway.
My garden, however, is not in a hurry.
My garden knows that this is the season for rest. Downtime. Dormancy. Il dolce far niente (Italian for "the sweetness of doing nothing"). Dormancy is a disagreeable companion to our wired psyche. To make matters worse, our computer driven vocabulary throws a monkey wrench in our way of thinking. Wikipedia tells me that downtime "refers to a period of time that a system is unavailable or offline, usually a result of the system failing to function." In other words, downtime is an imperfection, and must be avoided. Our response? Get "back online," get the system up and running. As if downtime is something from which we need to recover.
We live in a world that sees any empty--"non-productive"--space as an indictment. So we are compelled to fill every void quickly, with stuff, busyness, activity, distractions, commotion and any number of well-meaning goings-on. And we lose the restorative power of dormancy.
The Hebrew word for rested, vyenafesh, can mean rest, or ensouled, breath, to catch one's breath, sweet fragrance, passion, and inner being of man. A nefesh can also mean a living being. In the context of Sabbath, God ensouled this day when He rested.
Dormancy ensouls a garden.
Downtime (Sabbath, Dormancy) ensouls my heart. And my life.
Today, I need to let my garden be my teacher.
Today I put down my garden to-do list. I let the empty garden breathe. I let my mind rest. There is a fire in our fireplace, and I have picked up John Thorne's newest cookbook to keep me company. Outside my window, the trees are without leaves. Blank. And exquisitely beautiful.
Poems / Prayers
What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare-
No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows;
No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass-
No time to see in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like stars at night,
No time to turn at Beauty's glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.
A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
William Henry Davies
God of peace,
let us rest in your presence,
let us keep watch in your holy place,
let our restless thoughts be stilled,
let your peace sink deep into our souls,
let your presence be sufficient for us,
as we keep watch before you.
Amen
For God alone my soul waits in silence;
from him comes my salvation. Psalm 62:1
We have no time to stand and stare-
No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows;
No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass-
No time to see in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like stars at night,
No time to turn at Beauty's glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.
A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
William Henry Davies
God of peace,
let us rest in your presence,
let us keep watch in your holy place,
let our restless thoughts be stilled,
let your peace sink deep into our souls,
let your presence be sufficient for us,
as we keep watch before you.
Amen
For God alone my soul waits in silence;
from him comes my salvation. Psalm 62:1
Peace,
Terry Hershey
