Last weekend I went to an all day yoga and meditation workshop here in our local village. I know, the benefits of the city in regional Australia. Gotta love it. The day was, as you’d imagine, peaceful, grounding, calm and warm. It helped me to focus on all that is good. I got home that evening to find the fire crackling, Hubs and The Kid curled up on the couch watching the flames and listening to music. I joined them, happy and content. I read The Kid one of his favourite books and as I stroked his hair he nuzzled into me.
It was indeed a scene befitting the end of a day spent meditating and stretching and strengthening my body. However, presumably The Kid had had enough of cuddling on the couch and he began to kick me, initially playfully, though it seemed some fairly serious intent was developing. Things escalated pretty quickly, as they do with toddlers, to the point where his Dad was taking him to his room screaming (The Kid was screaming that is, not his Dad), saying he could come back out when he’d settled down. Meanwhile my newly acquired meditation skills were fast disappearing up the chimney with the rest of the smoke from the fire and, in a very un-zen-like fashion, I yelled. This whole situation didn’t go down well and The Kid pulled the closing door towards himself to stop his Dad from closing it, and the bottom of the door slammed into his big toe, his toe nail tore and the blood appeared. Needless to say, the screaming intensified.
Excellent. Close your eyes. Deep breath. Index finger-to-thumb (both hands), Hommmmmm….
Waking to a daily changing, beautiful, rural scene prompts me to appreciate my surrounds, to take a deep breath and focus on all that is good. Watching my vegie patch grow and change also gives me delight and reminds me of the simple good in life.
We have a local Farmer’s Market, held on the last Saturday of each month. At the March market I bought a supply of seedlings for my vegie patch. Baby spinach, a few types of lettuce, two types of beetroot, leeks, spring onions, kale, snap peas and snow peas. I planted most of them that Sunday and by the Thursday the snow peas’ tendrils were already twirling and curling around the wire support I’d given them. So clever, so simple and so intuitive.
Some of them have now gown to about 80cm in height and today, almost 6 weeks after planting, the first snow pea flower has appeared. I study the tendrils, the new leaves opening, the first, white flower and wonder at Mother Nature. And so now I eagerly await my crop of snow peas. Because The Kid loves picking them and eating them fresh, he too keenly awaits their development. We will observe them daily to see how they grow and change, until finally they are ready for his little fingers to pluck them from the plant.
The dill, basil, coriander, flat-leaf parsley, nasturtium and orange calendula flowers have all self-seeded and they’re popping their heads up in amongst everything else I’ve planted. Our beautifully sunny and unusually warm autumn days are making everything thrive. That feels good.
And as I garden I practice that meditation skill of ‘being present’ and enjoy it. I think to myself, there are opportunities in each day (often with nature) to be still, to calm ourselves and to be content. It usually requires me being in the vegie patch on my own though. Is that OK? I’m working on it.
I’m pleased to report that last Saturday night, following my yoga and meditation workshop, and after we’d “bandaided-up” a little one’s sore big toe, The Kid went to bed smiling and happy and he and I cuddled, remembering all that is good.