Recently I decided to start tending plants as a hobby. I bring this up because I have wrestled for a couple of days now with what my second blog post should be about. I wanted to avoid diving into anything controversial too quickly, nor did I want to write about any of my incredible adventures of noble exploits too early on in this endeavor. That pretty much leaves me with almost nothing to write about, but since this is partly an exercise in cultivating the discipline of writing daily, or at least a few times a week, I had to write about something. As I sat enjoying the overcast day from our patio, I looked upon my plants and decided, well, I guess I could write about that.
Tending to plants is something I decided a few years ago that I should do for the benefit of my soul. Partly, it was the idea of cooperating with creation as a means of cultivating a deeper relationship to God. It was also something that seemed to require little effort and would keep me from reading a bunch of shit on the internet while drinking coffee, and thus wasting my mornings. You see, I felt I was becoming a bit lazy and complacent, and I figured this would be a small step towards combating the sin of sloth in my heart and body.
After three years of contemplating this, I finally planted some plants. My fiancée has a bit of a green thumb, so she provided me with the materials necessary, and already some of them have sprouted and are growing. I don't really know what I planted, although a couple of them are lavender, I do know that. I planted twelve, but the dog knocked over five of them on the first day. Two of those were lavender plants, and so now I only have two lavender plants. They have shown no signs of life.
Two were some sort of plant that I don't know the name of, and I stopped tending to them because they had been knocked over. We put the pots up on a counter on the patio, and they ended up growing without any attention on my part, so I have put them back with the other seven that I was continuing to tend, and I now have nine plants that I care for every morning upon waking.
Already, I have felt mental and spiritual benefit from this process. There has never been a utopian era in the history of humanity, but industrialization has created conditions that are uniquely dehumanizing. Of course, it has also elevated the standard of living and life expectancy, so it isn't all bad. Without question, though, it has created what Paul Kingsnorth has dubbed “The Machine.” Alas, those of us who live here in the west are subjects of the machine whether we want to be or not. Since I am not capable of overthrowing The Machine, I have set for myself the more modest goal of tending to a few plants.
I have no functional plans for these plants, I wish only to tend to them. Choosing what to plant was a bit of a struggle, because I needed it to be easy, and also have no purpose. This precluded growing any herbs, spices, flowers, or anything else that might have a function. The sole purpose is to submit myself, in some small way, into a symbiotic relationship with creation. I recommend this practice to all, regardless of religious predilection. There is something humbling and humanizing about this hobby that is peaceful and fulfilling. Plus, with the right plants, it is really easy and not labor intensive at all.
Likely I will write more about the concept of the machine in the coming days, though that is a dark and difficult subject to explore, and I don't wish the tone of this blog to shift that direction quite yet. In my heart I remain full of hope-not blind optimism-and I hope that my writing can be a source of hope to others, as well as a source of mirth and at times insight.
To participate in creation through doing something that requires mother nature to do the heavy lifting is to participate in creating life and embracing my own limits while pushing myself to become better. And it requires way less effort than going to the gym. Every gym in my area is non-smoking, which is as bad a reason as any not to go. But it is one of mine. Besides, my plants don't judge me for my beer gut and weak muscles. As long as I can move a keg, I feel as strong as I need to be.
The day is a bit overcast, which means it isn't oppressively hot here in West Georgia as it normally is. But it also means one of those summer storms I love so much may be blowing in soon. Since I have already watered my plants, I must now move them to a place where they will be safe from the storm-I don't wish for them to drown or for the pots to blow over. And so, I bring this blog post to a close. Until next time, may your soup be warm, you beer cold, and your bar tab affordable.