Tag Archives: home

Cutting The Grass With Scissors

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Yesterday I cut the grass. Literally. With scissors.

I returned home after being away for most of the last three months to find my wee yard a tiny verdant jungle full of butterflies and happy, buzzing bees. A few things had burned to a crisp, but the small patch of grass had grown way too high for my makeshift lawnmower to cut.

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Plus it had encroached into the flowerbed and I didn’t want to risk cutting any cherished blossoms.

And so I spent the afternoon sitting contentedly on a folded towel, slowly cutting the grass one snip at a time. This is what I discovered.

I loved it. Not that I want to cut my grass every time this way, but spending the time sitting and slowly cutting became very meditative. I allowed my mind to wander and daydream, something I don’t do often enough these days. Sometimes doing almost nothing is exactly what one needs.

I felt like a child again. How often do you just sit on the grass, barely doing anything? Not reading a book. Not weeding. Not making lists or even thinking of making lists.

Instead, I felt the ground beneath me. I watched a yellow butterfly dance amongst the lavender. I listened to the bees. I moved an earthworm to safer territory.

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I pretended I was cutting hair. I talked to the hydrangea like we were best friends. I swept the flagstones with my hands, softly brushing the grass clippings together like I was nine-years old playing house.

I slowed down. I stopped doing and became a human Being

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Filed under Home and Garden - Mine!

Lost and Found

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Forgive me readers, for I have sinned, it’s been six long months since my last post. Six months! The word ‘sin’ for me doesn’t adhere to the heavy-handed Christian interpretation. Rather I hold onto the Hebrew or Aramaic etymology, wherein I missed the mark, or was forgetting my Self. And so I was…somewhat.

Although my fingers slowed to a crawl, I didn’t stop writing. I’ve been pecking and poking away at my long-form project, in a steady, sloth sort of way. That is to say, when I have been writing, my thoughts line up as though coated in molasses. I seem to have sticky residue gumming up the pages in my brain.

Sometimes an impending earthquake can rumble through your life long before the earth moves beneath your feet. It causes all sorts of unexpected and unplanned mayhem; furniture gets tossed about, books tumble from the shelves and dishes fly out of the cupboards. Sometimes, like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, it picks you up and drops you down in a completely different and unexpected place. The force of nature moving within you.

It was an article in the New Yorker about “the really big one” due to hit the West Coast that got guts churning. It was the report from the structural engineer that got my feet moving. It turns out that the cement foundation poured in 1938 is slowly turning to dust and ruin and no amount of expensive remediation will make her sound. Not to mention what might happen if the bedrock my cottage sits on begins to shake, rattle and roll. Suddenly I’m faced with a complete tear-down and rebuild….or move again.

In January, my spiritual teacher asked, “What image, word or phrase will you carry  through this year?”

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Immediately the image of a big, beautiful tree with wide-spreading branches and deep, long-reaching roots came to mind. No longer do I need a house to put down roots. I am the tree. The roots are deep within me. Wherever I go, here I am. Home.

And so, almost settled into another, smaller-again-by-half house, I am writing once more. The words are flying around inside my head like caged birds looking for an open door. I am oiling the hinges…

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Filed under Transitions