Being yourself

its in the feeling

every year, i set out on a challenging physical activity. for many years i mountain climbed, then last year i climbed and i ran a 1/2 marathon. this year i am bicycling. as i set out on this year's journey, i came to realize the diversity of the activities i pick. i realized that i am not attached to any one of these activities ... i am going for the experience of what these activities do to me. i felt it for the first time on a sunny summer day in 2002. i was training to climb mt. rainier and was on a training hike to camp muir. it was 2 hours into the climb, every pore of my body was beaded with sweat and my nose was being warmed by the heat of my breath. in those moments, i saw nothing more than the mountain, i felt nothing more than the fatigue in my body, i heard nothing more than my own heartbeat and i thought absolutely nothing .... i felt like i could go on forever. it is the most meditative state i have known. and, it is that feeling i want to experience through any of these challenges i take up ....so the specific activity just doesnt matter ... its what it feels like that does ...

why goals?

most of us have goals in life -- i want to do this or i want to get this. i have them too. so, i sat down to write out the "big goals" of my life ... but i balked the moment i got down to actually writing them. i didnt want to write my goals -- writing them felt like i was committing to them in some way and that meant that i wasnt willing to just respond to life. somehow, committing to goals meant that i was going to lose the spontaneity of just living.

so i pondered what was going on ....

all to often, when i set goals, to my mind it means that i will accomplish them. that desire for accomplishing them makes me attached to the goal. the attachment in turn takes away from the spontaneity of just living.

setting goals also seems like yet another "ego enhancing" activity to me and so takes away from the plain experience of just working towards the goal ... its the eternal question of whether its all in the journey or in the destination.

so i am now asking myself ....

can i plan and hence set goals but not be attached to them ... let the course change as needed ... so i may not achieve my goals even though i set them and start out working towards them. can i do this by choosing an experience rather than a destination?

finding neverland

i watched Finding Neverland and walked out saying "never say never to to a child". the movie touched me more than it would have if i wasnt a teacher. i imagine that many parents felt the same way. we talk about the innocence of children ... the movie reminded me yet again about how real it is. children believe easily and their belief is what makes life so magical for them. johnny depp's attempts to reignite that way of believing left me inspired at the possibilities of what i can do for my students and my own life.

mary, mary quite contrary ...

... did you ever learn that poem as a child? It was one that I learnt quite late and thought it fascinating for a little girl to see a garden and talk about it so fondly. The little girl and the garden are both with me -- i am finally doing some a little 'real' grown-ups gardening myself.

i just started an organic gardening course that promises to be very enjoyable. it teaches "deep" organic gardening -- one that stresses not just not using chemicals to grow your food but also growing your food while being sensitive to all of nature and always maintaining the balance in nature. its gardening 'with' nature as opposed to gardening 'on' nature.

we spent all of saturday learning about soil and how to use every possible last scrap of organic matter in our lives to make the soil rich. i walked away fascinated and just wanting to make rich soil -- dont worry planting anything in it.

the course is 4 weeks long and very special to me - it came as a gift from my green-thumbed grandma -- she said she was excited to see me continue her legacy! now how could i ever resist following in her footsteps in this manner ...

hands in the soil

Yesterday, I led a school community service field trip to the local Marra Community farm. The farm relies on volunteers and a couple of full-time employees to keep it running. Its late winter in Seattle now and it is a busy time for the farming/gardening community. Lots has to be done from weeding to preparing the soil, planting, transplanting and so on. The produce from the farm goes to local food banks and other organizations that support needy folks in the area.

I have worked in the garden before but not in a long time. I sort of knew what to expect but not really. We got there and were told that the most help was needed in wedding out a bed and laying compost onto it. We got to work right away -- digging out the weeds, then pulling them out, shaking the soil off them before setting them aside on the pathway. We worked slowly and quietly as the cool morning air chilled our noses and the chirping of the birds soothed us. With each dig we would discover more than just weeds -- herb sprouts, potatoes from the last season, worms and other bugs. It was like digging into a treasure chest -- the treasure chest of life. We worked away silently for almost an hour -- our silence broken periodically by answering questions from the sole full-time employee of the farm. When I wasnt speaking, I felt an inexpressible harmony -- one, in which, my hands and the soil worked together. No thoughts. No chatter. Just the earth and my hands.

As the morning wore on, the sun peeked from behind the hillside and warmed our backs. We went on to fill wheel-barrows with compost so we could lay it on to the de-weeded bed. I had never shoveled earth into a wheel-barrow or wheeled a barrow. I underestimated how hard the whole exercise would be. By the time I did my fourth round of filling the barrow, wheeling it 300 feet away to the bed, laying the compost and wheeling back, my arms had gotten a solid workout. I realized first hand how hard it is to work on the farm. The hard work kept me quiet -- both verbally and mentally.

I dont know if these words can quite capture the quiet that the farm work brought to my mind and body. I guess they just cannot -- because there were no words there, anywhereh!