Though I do not believe that a plant will spring up where no seed has been, I have great faith in a seed. Convince me that you have a seed there, and I am prepared to expect wonders. - Henry David Thoreau
My dreamscape has been crazy of late, wow. I wake up every morning these days still swimming in the imagery, the colors, the players, the plotlines, the drama. All my dreams have been focused on a particular life episode and though these dreams are not sequential in any way, nor do they seem thematically integral, I believe I'm working through something big. Sacred rot, holy compost! Yeah.
I'm breaking down in my mind/heart events that, until recently, seemed set in stone, unchangeable. One cool thing about the idea of holy compost is the recognition that EVERYTHING composts. Even plastic breaks down after a million years (which, in terms of the lifespan of the earth, is a pretty short time). So even the ideas I hold most dear can and will eventually compost. It's a liberating thought, it really is.
There's nothing I love better than changing my mind/heart about something I thought was untouchable. The paradox here is that I am a romantic, such an idealist. When I fix upon an idea I think is noble, I develop a loyalty to it. I kind of WANT my ideals to be set in stone. It's a misplaced loyalty, perhaps. All is change, yes? I say yes.
The challenging aspect of holy rot is that it takes time. Compost doesn't happen overnight. Seeing that things are taking a turn in my mind/heart, I'm ready to begin planting. But it's November, for God's sake. So I guess if I MUST plant something in my mind/heart, it's going to have to be a bulb. Metaphorical tulips, maybe?
Or - maybe I need to take a deep breath and honor the sacred rot of ideals and thought-forms that have passed their expiration dates. It's quite possible I'm getting ahead of myself. I am not a gardener so I'm unclear how to proceed. Of course this is metaphorical gardening, but I'm guessing that the same rules apply. Ya think?
17 comments:
I know almost nothing about gardening but I like what you're talking about here - metaphorical tulips cracked me up. Also really like your new header.
Thanks, Jeanette!
Wow--metaphorical compost is a really exciting idea for me--I've spent a lot of my professional life caught up in the ecology of decomposers, and I love my garden, compost, manure and all. (And there is my fascination with fabric scraps and second-hand goods of all sorts....) But I never thought about treating ideas that way.
Thanks for this! You are so exciting to read!
Hey REBECCA!! So glad to "see" you here.
The season doesn't matter. go ahead and plant your seeds.
Ellen? You know best. I'm on it.
You are always seeding ideas in my head. I`m having green weedy hair already.
I come from a long line of farmers, Reya. Even before my mother's family came here from Ireland, they were farmers. Her father raised 12 children on a farm up north of Kansas City in Parkville, about a hundred years ago now.
Anyway, good soil needs a dormant period in which to recover after harvest. Without it, the soil becomes drained of all nutrients and the next crop suffers.
I say, with all the conviction of my farmer's DNA, to allow yourself a dormant period to let things rest. That's probably NOT in your DNA, but I think the next crop will benefit if you do.
Shalom.
Me too! I believe in compost!
Ellen is a great gardener, but the wisdom of your advice, Jo, comes from your intimate knowledge of what I'm trying to process.
There's no rush, eh?
Okay, just a guess here (I'm a crappy gardener), but I'm pretty sure that the seed and the compost need a period of rest. They have to do a lot of awesome work in the spring & summer & fall, so they need some quiet in the dark time, some time to just sit and be.
That's what I think. How do you translate that into life? Hm...
I'm still thinking about planting some metaphorical tulips. Bulbs contain the intention of spring but must sit in frozen ground for awhile.
We're just making this up as we go!
Or maybe iris bulbs. Iris brings hope. Yeah. Maybe.
Karen, translated to "real" life I think it means give it a rest ... all the things I obsess about, just put them on the back burner for awhile.
There is a book called Plant Dreaming Deep written by May Sarton - sounds like that's what you are trying to do :)
Love May Sarton. I'm going to have to track this down.
i can dig it
Tom, have I mentioned recently that I adore you? Three words say it all.
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