Universe in my garden

Why would I use this phrase? Well, this would be to tell the story of my life, I suppose. But I believe we can simplify the explanation.

I have been strongly affected by the natural world since I can remember and was blessed to grow up in the country. Not just any country either, but deep in the heart of Amish Ohio, among high hills, heavily wooded with hardwoods of great variety. Both culture and ecology were rich. And I was inclined to explore both, making many valuable observations, consciously and unconsciously, that were to guide my life more than I could know at the time or for some years to come.

After graduating from college I moved across the United States to Los Angeles, where I attended college for three years. Culture shock would be an understatement, but the habit of observation served me well in an entirely new environment, with greatly enhanced opportunities for learning on many levels.

There followed years of living in West Texas, Kentucky, Eugene, Los Angeles - a very public life and a varying set of social and environmental circumstances to observe and explore.

My mind works like this: I tend to store nuggets and tidbits of information with the full knowledge that they will be important one day, either on their own or in conjunction with other pieces, and they make good puzzles when pulling weeds, making a stone fence, doing other rather mindless physical tasks. I am keenly observant and gather information in a cause and effect sort of way. I also tend to be reductionist in style, always looking for that which is behind the obvious. With a breadth of exposure and a lively curiosity, what I got were more conundrums than axioms. More questions than answers. And exhaustion.

A divorce ended that early stage of my life (at age 35) and the upshot was that I finally landed on unsteady feet on 50 acres of undeveloped land in the American West, which I developed into a home with large garden, orchard, lawn and perennial flower beds. In this setting, all the accumulated experience, observation and questions began to ferment. Life was simple, close to the earth, harmonious (at least in the physical sense - I had quite a lot of sorting out to do on the emotional and psychological front). And there, in that setting, standing in my garden, or planting bulbs in my flower bed, or mulching a row of vegetables, or pruning a fruit tree, amazing truths emerged and a foundation for hope, belief and a personal ethos began developing. An ongoing process of course which does not end till death, if then. A time of solitude and contemplation.

And, in that setting, as primal as a human can get, the universe is represented. There are the basic elements - earth, air, water, fire - but also the basic constructs of human survival and development, shared human emotions and dreams. These are not limited to any one place, time, gender, tribe. They are linked to a very deep level within ourselves that is completely lost in contemporary lifestyles. I found in this setting a deep appreciation for and understanding of indigenous cultures and spirituality. I found the earth and the elements teaching me what could be found nowhere else, by no other means. These lessons are very personal and very profound, but I insist that they are indeed universal and essential, connecting me to all other living beings. They are also very subtle and require patience, never my long suit. I came to appreciate how very much the earth is our mother. How important it is to honor her. What is truly important and what is not.

This is the background, the framework, the sheltering structure for everything I have learned and am learning. It has taken many years, a lot of thought, many tears, considerable confusion, purposeful open-mindedness, patience, hard work, and a great deal more love than I ever might have imagined - both giving and receiving.

I have by no means "arrived." That would be a sad event. But I have a foundation for growth in the rest of my life, and an opportunity to share something that may be of use to someone else. Elemental precepts we share. Individual journeys are unique. Kindred spirits recognize each other. We are not alone.