I talk about wholeness a lot on this blog, but rarely about some of the unpleasant parts of wholeness. So here--like dark clouds on a sunny day-- is a love screed affirming, deepening, some of what I have left out.
Do you know how much work a garden is? Even a low-work garden? How much dull, repetitive work there is? Work that needs to be done regardless of the weather. And it's not like I don't already have a job.
I do not care if it's good for me. I am getting no pleasure from it. And there is still more work to do. And more. How will I ever get it done? Not as young as I used to be. What was I thinking? What Was I Thinking?
Yes, sometimes that is what it feels like. Maybe not often, but sometimes. To pretend otherwise is to cheapen reality.
But even when gardening feels like drudgery, there can remain three important things: hope, faith and love. Nothing much this side of Heaven comes without effort. There are always good days and bad days. Anything worth doing looks impossible if you look at it in totality, but if you just put one foot in front of the the other, sooner or later it gets done.
I have found that when I work out of love the difficult bits are still difficult, but not impossible. Where as if I work out of more mixed motives, I have a harder time when I hit the difficult stuff. And it helps to assume and accept that there will be difficult stuff. Even in a garden.
To embrace reality means to accept it. I'm not one of those who thinks we completely construct our own reality through our attitudes and thought processes. But I do think our thought processes can make a difference to our behaviors, which reverberate through reality. To have faith and hope means to go on. To try to do good where you can. To forgive. To ask to be forgiven. To be open to grace.
Cause at some point the weather turns, your bones stop aching and this happens--
A foretaste, perhaps, of a truer being.
All the photos in this post are of Erdenheim Farms, except for the last, which is of Rittenhouse Town.