Swan Sanctuary

Many years ago, when I was in my late teens, I was introduced to Buddhism. While I never made a deep dive into the study of it, I adopted what is known as “the middle way.” In a rather round-a-bout way, I have since re-visited Buddha philosophy. True to the middle way, I have taken bits and pieces of various religions, beliefs, and ideas and molded them into something that works for me. In other words, I have never strictly adhered to any one ideology, joined a group, or pledged allegiance to anything requiring blind acceptance. 

Many people today are awakening from the dream of the life that they are living. They are learning to separate fictitious truths from blind ignorance. They are closing their ears to the rhetoric of those who claim to have all the answers; and they are refusing to accept what they have been told to believe – and to question absolutely everything. In essence, they are learning to trust their own “inner” knowing. More light is finding its way into their consciousness, resulting in greater understanding. 

This act of awakening is difficult. It is filled with challenges and suffering – often more than we think we can bear. Layers and layers of old beliefs are shed and over time – even lifetimes – our Buddha nature is revealed. Many of us will experience a “dark night of the soul” or get hit by a cosmic 2 X 4 or my favorite description by Alan Watts: “get the stuffing knocked out of us.” For indeed, from almost the moment of birth, we are stuffed full of information, cultural ideologies, and experiences. It is our choice to accept or to reject all that Life presents to us. We can refuse to be led like a dog on a leash and adopt instead, the middle way. This may sound easier than it actually is because we must learn to let go of control, to cease grasping and clinging. We must embrace the impermanence of life as it continues to move forward.

In the middle way, we learn to trust and to find balance between extremes. As our country struggles with division and discord between Republican and Democrat, we will continue to suffer. In time it too, will find equilibrium in the middle way. We will arrive at the peaceful center somewhere between conflict and passivity, between hatred and fantasy. Somewhere, in the center, there is only love.

Awakening is an often clumsy, arduous, and occasionally amusing journey. It can be difficult to see that we are all connected, all one being as many wiser persons have tried to tell us. It is hard to wrap our heads around the idea that we are one with the murders, rapists, pedophiles, and  the  perceived enemies that we share our planet with. Still, we all breathe the same air that is continually recycled. Our bodies have been recycled from stardust and from the soil of our decomposed ancestors.

It has helped me to think about our own bodies. Our heart, our lungs, our blood, our bones, our eyes, and all of our other organs are separate; yet they must all work together in order for us to have a living body. There are many examples in Nature of individuals working together for the good of the whole: ants and bees, flocks of birds and schools of fish. Even different species require the presence of other species in order to survive. Monarch butterflies need milkweed. Flowers need pollinators. We need each other. 

Quieting our own egos is necessary in order to understand the greater whole. When I was young I wanted to believe, along with Simon and Garfunkel, that I was an island. Like many loners, I wanted to feel the safety of my alone-ness. We can live solitary lives and convince ourselves that we do not need others. Barbra Streisand sang that “people who need people are the luckiest people in the world.” In actuality, it is those who realize that we need others, who benefit the most. 

Our individual organs are made up of individual cells; but each cell must divide and multiply in order for life to continue. Everything can be broken down infinitely into something smaller, but all things are part of something larger. All of the living organisms on our planet make up the one organism we call Earth. Earth is one of many planets that make up our solar system. Our solar system is one of several others that make up the universe, on into infinity. A friend of mine used to say, we have all of eternity and infinity in which to grow. 

We each grow at our own rate, in our own time. A few individuals have awakened almost spontaneously, but for most of us, understanding is a gradual process. Throughout our lives we will know all kinds of people, each at a different stage of their journey. And as they say, it is not the destination, but the journey itself that matters. As we travel our individual paths, seeking  to understand that we are one organism, may we walk with ease and grace; and allow love to light our way.

You often hear these days that a large number of people are suffering from depression. You probably know someone who is ensnared in the grip of deep melancholy; or perhaps you yourself have sunken into a deep state of inexplicable sadness.

I have struggled with depression since I was a child, after I had been whisked from the happy existence I had with my grandmother and returned to my mother in the suburbs. Later in life, after a nearly ten year long marriage and worn out from the care of three babies, I was plagued with unhappiness. I tried to fit into my husband’s world where the goal was to acquire status and more things, mistakenly believing that the attainment of these things would bring me happiness.

It was not until after my divorce and after finding satisfying work of my own and purchasing a home of my own, that I began to feel an inkling of contentment. It was not actually these things; however, that lifted my spirits. Nor was it in the new relationship and subsequent remarriage. It was the moments that I spent in my yard, often in bare feet, growing a garden or even simply hanging clothes out on the line. It was, I discovered, the act of spending time outdoors, feeding the birds, watching the clouds, and playing in the dirt while feeling the warmth of the sun on my skin.

Sometimes when I am watching a movie, it will show an aerial view of a large city. I believe that many people, if not most, know only skyscrapers, traffic, concrete, and air, noise, and light pollution. They have become so immune to these things that they do not even recognize or question what to them has become normal. Their feet never touch the earth and their hands never feel the texture of, or their noses smell the scent of fresh soil. They live in air conditioned homes and heated buildings, rarely looking up or noticing the sky or the birds or the trees. They do not stop to smell the flowers. 

The world is filled with depressed people. They regularly visit their therapist and take drugs for their depression. Others may abuse alcohol or drugs. Many of them smoke cigarettes and are immune to the nasty odor of them. They are so far removed from Nature that they do not realize it is the missing link in their unhappy life. If only they would realize that it is their separation from Nature that has caused most of their suffering – and that returning to Nature is the only cure.

I am thrilled that very recently one of my grandson’s, Tristan, has discovered his passion for houseplants. He called me yesterday announcing that he wants to begin a balcony garden this coming spring. He asked for my advice. My two oldest daughters have shown only a vague interest in gardening and my youngest has positively no interest. Tristan, the only one of nine grandchildren who is interested in growing plants, says that it (this passion) has skipped a generation. However, my daughters are only in their forties, so I am still holding out some hope for them. 

I have spent most of my adult life pursuing my own gardening passion, so I am grateful that at long last, I have someone to whom I can pass on my knowledge. My library, of which about two thirds is made up of gardening books, can now go to Tristan when I am gone, instead of being donated to a local charity.

I have also recently made a new friend who is a gardener. She is showing me how to save seeds and we are sharing plants with one another. This is a dream come true for me. Many times I have regretted not taking the advice of my mother’s aunt, to go to school and study horticulture. At that time, I was working in a carnation greenhouse – underpaid, because it was considered agriculture and therefore not required to pay minimum wage. Consequently, I am a self-taught gardener, having learned much through hands-on experience and a degree of failure. 

I am often amazed at the frequency with which my plants thrive, as though they are responding to the love that I have for them. They are little (and sometimes quite large) beings that I surround myself with, so I never feel alone. Coaxing seedlings from their seeds fills me with a sense of bliss. In fact, my love for trees, for wildlife, and all of Nature affirms my reason for being alive. 

Knowing that all I have accomplished in my waning lifetime (and all that I am still learning) can be shared with my grandson, lets me know that it has not been in vain, And who knows – it might skip backwards and latch onto the skipped generation.

December is my least favorite month of the year. The ground is nearly, if not completely frozen and gardening is undeniably out of the question, except for those fortunate enough to have a greenhouse. It is not only that I am imprisoned indoors for the most part, nor is it the early nightfall, or the lack of sunlight. My despair arises from the nauseating, blown out of proportion holiday season. 

I personally prefer to celebrate Winter’s Solstice, in honor of Pagan traditions; but my family remains bound to the modern Christmas celebration, which is merely an adulterated version of the same thing. Christmas trees are erected as early as the day after Thanksgiving and people dive into the usual rush with the ever popular Black Friday and Cyber Monday. Consumerism is at an all time high and credit card debt soars.

I stopped putting up a real Christmas tree years ago. Even when the trees are later composted, I cannot justify the killing of them simply to satisfy our momentary human desires. The trees that are cut, but never sold, have had their lives ended without purpose. Trees are living organisms. They were here before humans and will likely be here if and when we self-destruct. 

The too many lights that contribute to light pollution and the gaudy lawn ornaments add still more concern to a planet that is constantly compromised. The cheap, plastic crap that is sold nearly everywhere, and which subsequently ends up in landfills, along with the artificial trees, are nothing more than eye sores.

There are natural ways that a person can decorate for the holidays. Boughs of evergreens, holly, and cuttings of mistletoe can often be found in one’s own yard. We can take what has been dropped for free on the forest floor, or take no more than half of a living plant. With a little imagination, we can use items from our kitchens and sew, bake, and create things that do not add to the plastic problem.

The office parties, the Secret Santas, and the giving of gifts that no one wants, have become a custom of expectation. People are expected to participate. They are enticed to give to the “poor” and children are made to believe that they should be given gifts. They do not learn that life itself is a gift; and they grow under the illusion that they should always be given to, rather than learning the importance of reciprocity. They are instead taught that things will make them happy. 

In spite of the many people who adhere to different faiths, Christmas is a Christian holiday that has taken the world hostage with its traditions. We might just as well call it Consumer Day instead of Christmas Day. Since giving up this yearly insanity, I have felt a profound sense of peace and freedom. I must still endure the cold of December, but I can spend it doing what I love – planning next year’s garden.