I am planting altared spaces in my garden this year and I’d love to have your help. I have a brown thumb, so I need lots of support. In this garden, along with planting the traditional things that grow, I’m collecting treasures that tell stories. Please send me a symbol of your altared space. You can even be entered in the Friday giveaway.
There’s an awful lot of snow in my garden for me to be using a spade or shovel right now. But that isn’t stopping me from thinking like a gardener. Or at least impersonating a gardener, since I don’t really know how gardeners think.
I’m planting myself in my life. And, currently my life is full of January bindweed. I’m tangled in paperwork. I cannot express how much I detest paperwork.
My desk is a disaster zone.
My children hand me a piece of paper and it is swallowed up in the belly of this sea. As a result of one of these paper losses, I’m sure, my son arrived at the Christmas program out of costume while everyone else was dressed to the nines. This is not how I want to live.
I once lost the title to our car. Our car. That’s not an insignificant thing to lose. Fortunately it is something that can be replaced, and, wonderfully, a good deal of humility was planted where pride had previously bloomed in abundance.
I am plenty humble these days. I’m ready to find things like car titles and important papers that tell how my children are suppose to dress for life.
I can’t be myself if I can’t find myself. I want to grow and flourish in my garden come harvest time. I think the winter and all this snow and blankets and cozy time is for getting my house in order so that, when spring time comes, I’ll be ready to sink my feet and fingers into the dirt and explore my roots.
Right now, I simply need to find something that might become a root. January, for me, has been about getting rid of every single piece of paper that isn’t absolutely essential.
Here’s why it’s been tricky: I love organizing. I love file cabinets. I love lists and planning. In the past I have saved paper thinking of elaborate plans for how to organize it all. But then I only have elaborate systems to maintain. And, while I excel at the once-a-year-clean-out, I stink at once-a-week maintenance.
So I get buried.
I’m getting rid of anything that might entangle me. I’m keeping nothing. The emptiness of space is enough. I might find myself in that. I might find my way to see the altared spaces that help me know who I am. Surely getting cleaned up enough to locate a car title can’t hurt when it comes to searching for things more difficult to find.
Are you similarly buried in bindweed? Tangled in too much? I’m planting a garden of stories; an altar of spaces where people are blooming. Please send me something to plant in my January garden that helps me know I’m not the only one trying to dig out and find my own roots.
Some of you have been kind enough to send me photos of your animals who want to be remembered. I am so touched by this, and have decided to make a prayer flag to hang in my garden. If you have a photo you’d like to add to this flag you may send it by contacting me at rbcamullen at hotmail dot com (funny format keeps spammers away).