Spring in Seattle

"Oh, that one could learn to learn in time!" – Enrique Solari

Warning: Your gardens are rising up!

We have had a lot of rain up here in our neck of the woods, so I haven’t gone out much to do anything except what is absolutely required for survival; but I looked out the window this morning and saw a most discouraging site: the grass is growing and will need attention soon. Ugh!

It’s not that I don’t like to mow and trim (although, I don’t), nor is it because I don’t like to weed, hoe, plant, and pick flowers (I don’t); but rather, I’m discouraged because it seems like I OUGHT to like doing those things. It seems that if I possessed any residual DNA from Adam and Eve, a joy in gardening would just come naturally, but it doesn’t.

My sense of personal failing deepened when I received an email from one of my good friends in Fresno who wrote: “… with an additional hour of sunshine, I was out in the yard planting violas. Here spring is almost upon us. The daffodils are in bloom, with those nasty white flowering pears almost leafed out. Nasty [sic], because I'm sensitive to the pollen.”

I appreciate the reality that the cold dank days of winter are becoming a thing of the past, and that our hemisphere is warming up. With the approach of Spring I recognize my personal energy-level is on the rise and renewed as plants begin to flower and trees begin to bud, so I’m not completely immune to the effects of life in the out-of-doors.

But connecting with Mother Earth just isn’t my cup of tea. When I stand on a plot of turf that just days ago was neatly manicured, and today demands a make-over, I rebel; and perhaps that is the clue I’ve been looking for.

I don’t think of myself as a rebel, and yet when there are things that need to be done and they interfere with what I want to do, what other word better describes the attitude that is causing me such grief? It’s rebellion, isn’t it?

The problem with rebellion is that it creates so much misery. Setting aside a discussion of rebel movements on a global scale, I simply note the concern we experience when those we love engage in activities or behaviors we might term “rebellion,” experimenting (as do many) with sex, drugs, and rock and roll; or (conversely) the anxiety we experienced during those times it was “we” who were rebelling.

Either way, rebellion is a messy and painful affair. Those who are wise learn from their experiences, and settle on a path more conducive to growth, maturity, and healthy productivity.

Rebellion has a dark side, for sure, but I believe it has a positive aspect which deserves equal attention: that it is a time of learning who we are – a time of new birth, for rebellion isn’t just a pushing against that which we have known, but an emergence of a new creation – an “I” who is not “You”.

I think of Rebellion as a form of gardening, the work of a soul wanting to know who they are, or wanting to grapple with matters of faith and spirituality for themselves, so their faith may truly be their own, and not a hand-me-down sham for show.

Thomas Berry once wrote, “Gardening is an active participation in the deepest mysteries of the universe.” He reminds us that we grow in our spirituality by participating in activities that inspire our sense of awe and mystery. We can do it through gardening, through the arts, or through a wide variety of activities that enhance our lives.

Rather than fighting with those who think differently from us, or who have chosen to grow along spiritual lines that vary from those we’ve known, perhaps we ought to step back a pace and apprehend that God may well be doing what God does best: bringing new life to his people.

No one has to love gardening to be a child of God. One need only receive the warmth of God’s Spirit, and smile; for God is cracking open hearts of stone – (transforming the “ho, ho, ho” of Christmas to the “hoe, hoe, hoe” of Lent) – bringing forth new life and hope in this, our world.