Thoughts on love, light, and energy work

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Thursday, March 29, 2012

On growing and gardening

It is spring in the desert. A short subtle season which arrives on a  breath of excitement as deciduous trees begin to bud and cactus begins to bloom. Spring means gardens that were planted in the winter months  are ready to be harvested and space cleared for summer growing. Spring is my favorite season, here in the desert or anywhere.

I have a garden spot in the front of my home where I like to keep a smattering of colorful flowers. To be fair, when we first moved into this home last summer, that patch of earth was a massive dirt mound; it needed a little flair. During the winter months I spent some time with my hands in the dirt turning and tilling the hardened ground to prepare it for planting. As is typical in this city, landscaping is done via rock, cactus, sun-hardy plants, and ground cover. In the creation of this garden spot I moved river rock from one end of the yard to the other to create pathways of rock over and through the newly turned dirt mound. It wasn't until I had hauled and placed 100 or more large, smooth rocks that I noticed the pattern I was creating was ever-so-slightly hinting at the design of a peace sign. It tickled me immensely that my subconscious leanings were manifesting in rock and earth. From that moment I made my design efforts more deliberate.

A peace sign in my garden.

A peace garden.


As I turned to the task of planting flowers (I had picked up plants at a local nursery in a bright palette of red, orange, and yellow--the earthbound colors of the first, second, and third chakras) I began turning plants from their pots in order to loosen the root ball in preparation for placing them in the soil. As I did this I was struck by how tightly wound the roots for many of these plants had become inside the plastic pot. Root bound: that is the term for it in a plant.  Entangled, stubborn roots swirling 'round at the base completely entwined together. In fact, so deeply had the root wrapped again and again upon itself there was actually fairly little room for further growth. If it stayed where it was, its chance of survival seemed limited.

 I shall repeat that last for emphasis: Its chance of survival seemed limited IF IT STAYED WHERE IT WAS.

Carefully, I pried through the mass of intertwined roots, shook loose the foundation of the plant and lovingly offered it a new place to rest in soil prepared and ready to give the plant the opportunity to grow. And thrive. I am happy to report that the garden planted weeks ago has bloomed abundantly into a vibrant collection of color and light.

The metaphor may be apparent, but I will spell it out here anyway.  People and plants? They are the same. At least in this instance. How readily we (the collective we) become set, stubborn and stuck in our lives. It is possible that looks different for each of us; in my own life it is a lifetime of patterns of behavior which require examination, untangling and a loosening that allows me to more freely explore my potential. Consider that it may be our habits that entangle us and lock us into ways of thinking which are actually limiting our own abilities to grow. And thrive.  Consider too that shaking that out a bit and opening ourselves up to the experience of change and re-planting, as it were, just may turn us from root-bound, habit dependent people into beings of beauty, abundance, and vibrant light.

Perhaps it is time to open ourselves to the subtle season of our very own spring.

Love, light, and happy growing,

1 comment:

  1. this reminded me of something I just read somewhere else about facing your defaults, and all your usual ways of responding to situations: sometimes, if you want to grow, you have to get out of your box. Good to see your thoughtful perspective again.