Just when I think the journey of finding treasures in the yard and gardens is over, I find something new.
Even small discoveries of broken things and lost marbles delight me.
Sometimes, good things come from the very acts we try to prevent. I wouldn’t have discovered this garden surprise without our pandemic puppy, who is now one year old. He tends to trample and pounce, as young dogs do, through the flowers and plants I wish to protect.
To that end, I’ve divided the yard with more gates in an effort to keep him contained to one area of lawn (which is now peppered with holes). Yet, he still squeezes and jumps his way through the boundaries bringing his chaos over to the more vulnerable areas.
When we moved in, the plants in the picture above were overgrown. Gradually, after multiple visits, the puppy has convinced the verdent army to retreat. In its surrender, I found a copper flower. Upon closer inspection, I discovered it once had a function. It was a decorative part of our sprinkler system.
Form and Function
As with other items found in the yard, form and function met. The previous owner laced the yard with objects that held beauty and served a purpose. (I sense a continuation of the theme on nurture and structure.) So far, I’ve found a metal tree that is also a mister to attract dragonflies, a plant stand that is a fountain with a light, a turtle that is also another sprinkler, remnants of metal plant structures that were once also torches, etc. etc. etc.
Additionally, there are areas and aspects of the garden that appear functionless, seemingly designed with the single purpose of infusing the yard with beauty. They invite me to relax.
One such area of the yard is the mediation garden. It’s separate (separation can denote sacredness). It invites one to sit and be; It is designed to nurture.
As I contemplate the role of centering prayer and presence in my life, I am aware of how nice it is to have a space to honor the sacred.
I’m also reminded of how important it is to then marry form and function. It’s easy to hold sacredness as one is held in a sacred space. It is harder to carry sacredness forward as we go throughout our day.
Rest with Every Step
I once heard a saying, “The wise man rests with every step.” As a person who learned to rush through tasks so that I could finally “earn” rest, the phrase has stayed with me.
Separation has its place and can be beneficial. When I keep the dog out of the flowers, the flowers thrive. When we have a separated time and space for meditation, we meet sacredness (in whatever form we perceive and believe it to be). Yet, what of the times that we want to play and prance with the dog? Or that we are moving through life … in function, in structure, in doing … without the benefit of a separate space to be?
The benefit of settling into ourselves and our truth, isn’t for just that moment. Its for the movement that comes after.
We can appreciate the calm and sense of order that come with clear boundaries. Yet, we tend to separate and dissect more than necessary and to our disadvantage.
What is the purpose of rest if we don’t carry the calm and confidence with us every step of the journey?
Are we truly at peace if it is limited to quiet spaces tucked in between fear, anxiety, and rage?
What is the use in recognizing that which is sacred if we don’t see and honor it in those we meet? Or in ourselves?
So, yes, have boundaries where they make sense.
And have connection and interconnectedness—embrace the messiness and challenge of wholeness. Without it, we may experience a sense of control, but we cut ourselves off from discovery.
We can’t control the untold stories that await us.
Embracing the whole experience of having a young dog, means accepting the chaos that comes with it. Having a yard with hidden treasures, means new threads of her story are sometimes found in the chaos—even the death and decay I try to prevent.
As for the copper flower. I will mold it and polish it, and see if I can restore not just its beauty, but also its function. What a gift.