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When I walked past the Capitol sometime after 7, the light in the cupola showing that Congress was still in session was blazing brightly, making my 10 and a half hour day seem short. I returned to my desk after the week in Miami to several dozen emails. By the time it was midday, an new meeting was scheduled for tomorrow that had not been in the emails or existing calendar, my catching up was interrupted by the need to give background to a reporter, and I was asked to chair a meeting tomorrow that I usually just attend. None of this felt stressful, but it did mean that to get enough done to handle my work responsibly and also get a good night’s rest, I could not leave in time for the two-hour Monday night class at Willow Street.
It seems perhaps not quite right that going out of town to study makes it harder to study with and support my local teachers, whom I love and respect. I think they understand, though, when I have been to study with our mutual teacher and bring back to share the energy of our wider community.
And now for a deep, quieting practice and my evening meditation before bathing and bed. It has been a long day.
Yesterday I went out into the garden first thing and fed and deadheaded and trimmed and harvested and pulled seedlings and rearranged and swept for several hours. One of the most delightful things about planting decoratively with herbs and greens is that trimming and pulling things back transforms directly into meals and gifts for neighbors and friends. My visitor to the garden walked away with bunches of oregano, lemon balm, and mint and lemon balm with roots to plant in her own garden. We drank a cool lemon-mint infusion (mixture of spearmint, peppermint, lemon balm, and lemon verbena) and ate a few strawberries (some from the garden, some from the farmers’ market). Later in the day, my lunch included a salad with lettuce, radishes, baby spinach and chard, spring onions, and various herbs. For dinner, I used chard, beets, and green onions to make a stew of chickpeas and greens.
With today’s rain, everything will keep flourishing, and I’ll be out there doing the same later in the week. My morning visitor and I agreed that one of the great delights of gardening is that the garden always welcomes more attention. The garden never asks to be left alone; it drinks in whatever attention and nourishment we are able to offer and returns it with grace. There are few things that both are comfortable with steady attention and fully nurture us the more attention we give. I find that meditation, too, always gives and receives graciously steady attention, which is one of its great gifts and joys.
After washing up the dinner things and making a sweet bread with one of the about to be overly abundant butternut squashes, I stepped out on the catio to be greeted by the nearly full moon. The thunderstorms this afternoon were modest, but they cleared out some of the smoke.
