On and Off the Path (Arizona Journey)
Photos of the journey should appear here (just by clicking — pretty amazing if you stop to think about it).
Photos of the journey should appear here (just by clicking — pretty amazing if you stop to think about it).
This weekend’s work in the garden continues on removing summer plants that are no longer productive to make way for cold weather planting (various greens and root vegetables).
The cherry tomatoes and a couple of the hot peppers are still flowering in addition to fruiting. Those I will leave in place as long as they are producing or until a frost, whichever comes first.
I ruthlessly pulled up all of the other pepper plants, gleaning the last of that cycle of the harvest (some years there are lots of peppers to pickle and roast and enjoy into winter, but not with this summer’s weeks of blasting, arid heat followed by the flooding storms).
With the limited space in my tiny garden, frittering away time or space from sentimentality, attachment, neglect, or lack of knowledge, has a significant impact on the possibility of flourishing. Sometimes I relish my ability to be ruthless in the garden–to tear things up that do not serve, let them go, and invite in new and more nourishing and productive things.
When thought about in relationship to the vastness of possibility, my life is not unlike a tiny and limited garden, the limits being space and time and the particular and peculiar collection of quirks, challenges, and talents that came in this incarnation. Oh to be as ruthless in discarding what does not serve in this life as I can be in the garden.
Peace and light, E — Posted with WordPress for BlackBerry.
and four days of no cell phone signal. Would I be able to do that without leaving home? Would I want to do that without leaving home?
I’ll ponder that another time. Meanwhile, I imagine waking up with the dawn in the high desert.
This is the view from the corridor just outside my office door. On the left is the Tax Court. On the right, is the homeless shelter where Mitch Snyder, advocate for the homeless, committed suicide. In between, the highway emerges out from under our building. At rush hour, especially on a rainy day, it is completely congested. Even on a cloudy day, not much light comes in the window. It is a north-facing view, and the windows are tinted.
If I were to be standing at a window on the other side of the building, it would be bright with sun. On the left would be the Capitol and the west lawn. In the center, the National Botanical Garden’s graceful contours would gleam on the far side of the reflecting pool. To the right, the National Mall, flanked by museums, would stretch in the distance to the Washington Monument.
What is important to remember is that both sides are always present. When we are facing harshness, demands, suffering, and challenges, we need to remember that beauty and light are still present. When we are filled with abundance, beauty, and light, then we must remember that there are others who are challenged and suffering and make efforts to extend to them our own abundance and light.
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Such skies. Who is the headless saint?