The daffodil bulbs I buried in the dirt of a decorative ceramic pot last Fall are actually starting to peek through! I am very excited and so hopeful! If they all bloom, it'll be one glorious bunch of brightness on my deck. So I am trying to restrain my impulse to water them, lest they drown or rot from oversolicitude. I make a daily, deliberate choice to back off, and let nature take it's course.
Choices always have consequences, so they are pretty important. Of course, many choices are rather inconsequential in the larger scheme of things. For example, my potentially water-logged or rotting daffodil bulbs would sadden only me. So, minor green thumb issues or choosing an occasional iced turtle mocha rather than a regular coffee at Caribou, matters less than the choice to BE rather than be employed (something every retiree understands); and less than the choice of an authentic hermit-paced solitary life over one perpetually hibernating in a black hole of thoughtlessness; and less than choosing to smartly flee the prospect of crushing debt rather than be overtaken by it.
But whether clandestine or transparent, choices matter to both people and plants - and animals too. Hopefully, choosing the best existential refresh key, and decisively clicking on it, will keep nasty allergies at bay, and whatever goes splat on my windshield will nourish daffodil karma forever!
People were walking themselves, their kids, their dogs. Neighbor downstairs was on her patio, summer sun visor in place making it possible for her to read in the bright sunshine. Ducks were squawking as they positioned themselves on the melting river ice. I stood on my deck, facing southwest into the sunshine, braced against the railing with eyes closed. Daylight saving time, 4:15 p.m. I noticed the gentle breeze only occasionally made the wind-chime sound above me, but strengthened sometimes and waved the flag enough for me to hear it from half a block away. A train sounded from across the river and noisely travelled south through town.
A glorious and atypical March 11 in central Minnesota.
What was I thinking? Quite a few things actually came in and out of my mind. But I tried to stay in the moment, and even wish myself to slimness as the sun washed away the cold of winter. Yes, I ought to go down for a walk in the park. But at least I was standing up here!
And I was doing something useful: I was busy being, and soaking in all the peace I could. I was mindful of the Syrians who had recently helped four journalists escape across the border to safety, leaving two of their dead colleagues behind; I thought about people I know whose health still needs to cross safe borders; I thought about some things that worry me; I realized that just wanting and praying for peace, security, health, justice (and even slimness) is not sufficient. But it is a start. Awareness, alertness, compassion, thankfulness and a discerning honest heart really can jumpstart the changes necessary for another fabulous day of limitless positive potential. Otherwise, my life is a total waste. And the gentle breeze might just as well be stagnant air.
In another month or so, when the ground thaws, there will be lots of mud, and the Minnesota mud rooms will be fulfilling their purpose. This thought came to me a day or so ago, somewhat secondarily to another thought about mud. If only all the muddy thinking apparent in current political polemics could be contained in a mud room!
The worst, for me, is the way separation of church and state gets all mixed up. And when power seeking individuals display such mendacity, cowardice and hypocrisy, well, I wonder how we can be spared their vitriol. Sure, I can switch them off at will, but they continue to make headlines. Pure hearts are proudly worn on sleeves and foul moths spew muddy waters of bigotry and incivility. Hence, muddy and tangled logic defies containment and keeps getting tracked beyond the mud room and into the house.
Usually what repels us is also something ugly within ourselves that we do not recognize. So I suppose I ought to be careful here. But I think it is safe to say that critical thinking skills can serve us well these days. If we have them, we need to hone them! If we lack them, we need to get them! It just isn't enough to quote learned scholars and saints of the past, or our country's Founding Fathers, or The Constitution , or the Bible or the Qu'ran. The proof is in the pudding, really.
Integrity, courage, compassion, truthfulness, generosity, intelligence, and holiness can be discerned any number of ways and so can foolish ambition and false religiosity. Spirituality is always more than skin deep, but inevitably surfaces in quite tangible ways that even the most ordinary alert person can recognize. But first we must scrape off, or wash off, the mud - and leave it in the mud room. Only then can we distinguish the universal freedoms at risk in our democratic society, the responsibilities we have as persons, as citizens, and the disadvantages of a pseudo-theocracy where the idol always has clay feet.
