Ever since we moved into our house, I’ve wanted a vegie garden. You know the kind of thing. One like my Mum with glossy silverbeet and fabulous peas climbing up the perfectly positioned trellis.
We even got as far as building a bed and having a go, but somehow it didn’t work. The lettuce got attacked by possums and pretty much everything else died… sad but true.
So the garden sat there fallow (which sounds gardenish but really just means empty and manky) while we researched what we had done wrong. Much research. Nothing else.
For months…and months. We were waiting until we had the perfect compost and fixed the fence perfectly so the possums couldn’t get in. And got the perfect seedlings that were perfectly organic and strong.
Like I said. Empty and manky.
Until one day I noticed that small tomato plants had sprung up (us gardeners like to call it self propagating). And then our neighbour gave me a left over strawberry plant that I threw in there. And then my mum gave me a lettuce seedling. Not very hopefully, I planted that as well – more to postpone its life than with any real belief it would actually grow.
Slowly I added stuff to the empty garden even though it still wasn’t right. A tub of parsley that was dying in Coles and needed at least some sunlight before it moved onto it’s next life. And the mint that was beside it because I couldn’t leave it without its friend.
Now that we have a ridiculous herd of chickens I started throwing the pooey (aka fertilised) straw from their hutch onto the garden as well. I am pretty sure I was supposed to do something with it first but it was raining and I figured that would wash it all in.
In my head it was still the empty manky patch until a friend arrived for a visit. As I was making coffee she headed outside. Incredulously she came back inside “who did your garden,” she asked. “It’s fabulous.”
And actually she was right. My funny, thrown together imperfect vegie garden is lush and growing (and not to brag but there are at least 10 tomatoes that are nearly ripe).
And it occurs to me that I’ve done the very same thing with my meditation practice. After months of failing, I finally gave up “doing it perfectly” and now do it when I can and how I can. In bed in the mornings. Sometimes I use my mobile in the afternoon to listen to them in the car.
And while I can’t take a photo of the inside of my head I know that it is a way better place than it was a year ago.