It occurs to me that we might learn a lesson from plants right now about settling in, even as we sit in this place of unknowing. I’ll share a story about our foray into gardening yesterday.
First, the context that is the background of everything: we do not know how many will suffer and die from this coronavirus.
For those of us who are especially vulnerable, it is unclear when we will be able to leave our homes safely.
Everything has changed and the unforeseeable, unknown future is unsettling.
Yesterday, our building of six units came together to plant an area in the front yard we share. The silver lining is that we never did this before and it was lovely, even with masks and gloves. I even learned that our new upstairs neighbor was a Master Gardener, like me!
Planting in the garden is a deep experience for me. I literally experience God in the garden: death and life, miracles beyond imagination, and life lessons among the birds and butterflies.
When you take a plant out of the pot it’s been accustomed to for some period of time and plant it in the ground, it goes into a kind of shock and trauma. The plant gets tousled around, its roots bruised a bit, and then it’s tamped down and watered. They can wilt a bit from it all. And then, most of them revive.
This morning, I went out to check up on our “new babies” in the garden.
To my delight, they had settled into their new home. If you are a gardener, you know what I mean.
The plants had recovered and you can see it distinctly. Underground, what happens is that the tiny ends of the roots recoup from the shock of planting, and send out tiny roots overnight.
The plant looks settled.
Settling In
It occurred to me that we as humans can know this feeling of “settling in”.
If you are a meditator, you begin to feel settled as soon as you sit in the chair to begin a session. Ballet dancers (I remember this from when I was little) have “first position” that is a centering. Yoga practitioners have a similar way to ground themselves in the present moment.
Your body remembers.
Lurianic Kabbalah speaks about the healing of the world and ourselves (tikkun) that takes place gathering the scattered sparks of our souls.
This idea of “settling in” and “gathering in” can be learned – you develop the muscle memory of being right where you are. It is a spiritual practice, indeed.
What Might This Mean For Now?
This planting got me thinking about how we can emotionally and spiritually settle into this moment in time – knowing that we do not know what tomorrow will bring.
Settling-in is a way of calming. Just as the plants’ root system begins to accept the new place they are going to grow – how might we establish ourselves in this now – even with not knowing how long we will be here?
Can we develop some basic rituals that allow us to send out new, baby roots into the soil of now?
Might we grow in our acceptance of this now, knowing that we do not know the outcome, and practice letting go?
Is there a way we can acquiesce to what we cannot control and be settled in this experience?
Can we begin to cultivate an attitude of curiosity about how we might grow in this new space?
I would love to hear your thoughts.
For me, right now, I am sitting with this new insight, and opening myself to the possibility that this moment may teach many lessons – and perhaps I might blossom in new and unexpected ways.
Blessings to you on this journey –
Rabbi Jill
PS – You can still join The Path To Self-Discovery Goes Through the Wilderness course – 4 sessions.
The next session is Monday, May 4. In it, we tackle how to navigate the wilderness we are in right now, with spiritual tools and learning.
A Master Gardener. So fun to know. I work with children to find Joy and The Great Creature in the garden. We also lived and gardened in Seattle. Blessings
I found this very meaningful to me . What you are describing for this particular time in our lives is exactly what I have been trying to do for a few years now in relation to my husband’s , and my, journey through Alzheimer’s disease . We don’t know what tomorrow will bring ( sadly even tho we know the eventual outcome in this case ) but there are such beautiful lessons to be learned along the way . We grow thru adversity and learn our strengths from our struggles. We also learn not to sweat those small things and to let so much go . We learn to enjoy being in the moment . We appreciate the love and great support of family and see that one day can be hellish but the next day beautiful. So thank you Rabbi for your insight and advice that is so important in the now but also in the always .
With my move back to Laguna Woods this week, i know how shocked the plants felt. And, like your new plants, I’m perking up and settling in. And accepting I don’t know the outcome. With bravery. We’ll deal with each day as it comes.
This is beautiful, Rabbi Jill. Thank you. I’m also a gardener. Last year I began converting much of my 20’ x 30’ veggie garden to a pollinator garden using native Virginia perennials. This spring I’m adding plants to that and have built (by myself) a toad pond. The garden has always been my sanctuary – this year more than ever.
I liked this thank you.
I love gardening. Observing my plants “settle in” and flourish is awe-inspiring. Thank you for revealing how we humans “settle in” to new circumstances that are beyond our control.
Wandering through each day, the garden restores a weary soul. Checking-in with each planting and watching precious garden “children” change and grow year after year, never fails to amaze. Communicating through the senses, eyes soaking up all shades of green. Varied, vibrant colors of new growth tenatively emerging, one can “feel” the vibrating spring blossoms. Birdsong is louder in the garden this pandemic year, as the hush of human business quiets Mother Earth. Placing hands in moist soil feels like “coming home” again. Bare feet connect to earth’s center through imaginary roots winding downward, into the deep, and extending upward through the crown, to heights unknown in an ever-changing sky, makes one wholly – Holy – connected to All That Is. Glorious Gratitude Abounds!
Carole – this is poetry. So beautiful. Thank you so much for sharing your words and observations. YES to everything – the birdsong is so prominent. The hawks overhead. Yesterday, so many monarch butterflies on one of the new plants (and I didn’t have my camera!). So grateful. Even in the midst of this pandemic.
I once heard that some people in India don’t like their photos to be taken with a camera. Rather, they suggest that instead, we hold the image close in our heart. And so shall you hold the beautiful Monarch Butterflies there Rabbi. Thank You for being a true Blessing in my life, as we wander through this wilderness together❣️