An angel in our garden
There she perched, pink toenails and all.
Delicate strappy sandals and pink toenails.
Perched right atop the shovel.
Did I mention she was four feet in the air, or so it seemed, on a tiny ledge of dirt about twelve inches wide and way way in the air above the sidewalk in front of my house, yes, perched on the very tip of the shovel, pink toenails and all.
The shovel sways lightly and she shifts her weight to compensate, both feet still balanced on the narrow edge. I'm looking up at her and she's stating quite clearly she has no idea how to plant the flowers we have -- did I mention none of us know what they are? She claims no knowledge or expertise in the area. And as she's going on about this, she gives a little hop from time to time, just managing to get the shovel and inch deeper into the ground, swaying precariously but nonchalantly.
She has just saved me from a meltdown. You see, when it comes to plants I know nothing -- especially these --since the half wilted plants were all donated from someone we did not know. I spent some time wondering if it mattered and then abandoned the analysis as the sun started to set. Instead I moved on to sheer terror about the ten bags of plants sitting on the sidewalk, since I had no idea what to do with them. Then she showed up and offered to help.
Funny thing is, she didn't really bring expertise. But she did bring the courage to get the job done. And that is what happened. The job got done.
She dances on the shovel a bit and then turns over a loamy pile of dirt. We discuss the controversy of obedience and devotion. Another pile of dirt turns. I can't help feeling like we are digging up the boneyard and planting flowers there. I say an authentic guru's nature is to cause chaos, to help us break out of the box of our own obstacles, so it is always hard to speculate the motivation behind strange behaviors. The dirt turns over in another place. There are beautiful lush worms everywhere. I realize in my own mind obedience and devotion are rich with independence, thoughtfulness, engagement and well, yes, faith. But I think in general these things are not associated with obedience.
Of course her feet touch the ground when she turns the dirt. But then she's right back up on her perch. Somehow I think she could meditate there, perched among the wilted plants. It does look more like a graveyard than a garden.
But she assures me that with a little water and some love, the chances that it will be transformed are quite good. Tomorrow, the next day, maybe the day after.
And this story pretty much ends right there, with the angel, the pink toenails, and the possibility of transformation.
Delicate strappy sandals and pink toenails.
Perched right atop the shovel.
Did I mention she was four feet in the air, or so it seemed, on a tiny ledge of dirt about twelve inches wide and way way in the air above the sidewalk in front of my house, yes, perched on the very tip of the shovel, pink toenails and all.
The shovel sways lightly and she shifts her weight to compensate, both feet still balanced on the narrow edge. I'm looking up at her and she's stating quite clearly she has no idea how to plant the flowers we have -- did I mention none of us know what they are? She claims no knowledge or expertise in the area. And as she's going on about this, she gives a little hop from time to time, just managing to get the shovel and inch deeper into the ground, swaying precariously but nonchalantly.
She has just saved me from a meltdown. You see, when it comes to plants I know nothing -- especially these --since the half wilted plants were all donated from someone we did not know. I spent some time wondering if it mattered and then abandoned the analysis as the sun started to set. Instead I moved on to sheer terror about the ten bags of plants sitting on the sidewalk, since I had no idea what to do with them. Then she showed up and offered to help.
Funny thing is, she didn't really bring expertise. But she did bring the courage to get the job done. And that is what happened. The job got done.
She dances on the shovel a bit and then turns over a loamy pile of dirt. We discuss the controversy of obedience and devotion. Another pile of dirt turns. I can't help feeling like we are digging up the boneyard and planting flowers there. I say an authentic guru's nature is to cause chaos, to help us break out of the box of our own obstacles, so it is always hard to speculate the motivation behind strange behaviors. The dirt turns over in another place. There are beautiful lush worms everywhere. I realize in my own mind obedience and devotion are rich with independence, thoughtfulness, engagement and well, yes, faith. But I think in general these things are not associated with obedience.
Of course her feet touch the ground when she turns the dirt. But then she's right back up on her perch. Somehow I think she could meditate there, perched among the wilted plants. It does look more like a graveyard than a garden.
But she assures me that with a little water and some love, the chances that it will be transformed are quite good. Tomorrow, the next day, maybe the day after.
And this story pretty much ends right there, with the angel, the pink toenails, and the possibility of transformation.
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