Turning fallow Soil – My Garden, My Soul

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The remnants of last year’s little garden.  Curly kale gone to seed but supplied one last meal.  There was some spinach and chicory and a few brussel sprouts left to add to the meal.  A fall garden’s last gift to the spring.

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I have a raised bed with several different containers that produces food for a little bistro housed within a small winery.  The larger containers are 80 gallon fermenters that at one time held wine that I made.  Now they hold tomatoes, and cantaloupes, cucumbers, winter squash, and this year some cucamelon vines.  The Salvia has returned and the undying, unrelenting mint continues to attempt to claim all.  It is remarkable the amount of food that can be grown for pennies in such a small space.

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A thousand times the spade split the ground.  Lifting and turning unearthing the earth.  I began with soil that had too much clay.  Each year I amend it with last year’s straw.  And last year’s dung from an elephant at the zoo.

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I was happy to see many of these little guys.  Hidden deep under the earth they transform last year’s straw and last year’s crap into rich food that will produce fruit and seed that will sustain me.  The soul of the earth and my own soul seem to work in similar ways.

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The earth is ready.  Like a blank canvas it awaits my choices, ready to receive the seed, eager to hold, nourish and support the new life which will spring forth out of her.  For a few hours labor, blistered hands, burned skin, and aching muscles, I will receive back beauty and nourishment for my body and my soul.  The planter is one I made from a re-purposed pallet last fall.  I was going to plant strawberries but chose basil to use in a fresh pesto.

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My first babies of this year.  They were happy in their new home.

Be Groovy!

The Second Half (Audio)

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Calling

I have skills

I have intelligence

I have proven courage

I am creative and imaginative

I have an easy way with people

I am moderately attractive

I am strong in action

I have access to resources

I am healthy

I have led

I have followed

I am experienced

Yet I sit

I am not lazy

I am accustomed to work

But now even marking white screen with black symbols is an effort

To what end

An act of faith, or a shot in the dark

I have

I have

I am

I am

Yet it all seems a mask, paper mache

Wire, paper, glue and hollow inside

Or perhaps a game played but no longer interesting

I seek a calling

A reason

A vision to manifest

A vocation to which I will submit the second half

A new reality on which to focus what I have and who I am

That I may be remade, renewed, restored, and redeemed

I want to be alive before I die

In submission to the true calling of my Soul

I will find my freedom

Stuff – Noun or Verb?

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I have 14 drafts saved on this thing.  They are ideas, the beginning of poems or stories and essays that need attention some day.  I also have pieces of paper filled with words in boxes and journals that had been scattered around in various places.  Much of it has been untouched for years.  Some of it though is now, at least, connected with the posts and drafts here at the Groove.  Over the last month or so I have been gathering up all that stuff.  And have begun to at least  to get it all in the same proximity.  Now, stuff is not a particularly sophisticated word on the surface but it is most descriptive for me in this case.  It seems a good word for this material because that is what it feels like.   Just stuff.

Apparently its origin is late Middle English (1300-50).  It was a verb which denoted the action of equipping or furnishing.  Over the centuries we have continued to use the word as a verb as in “I need to stuff this pillow.”  But we have also expanded its use to include even the (typically undefined) material used in the actual action of “stuffing.”  It has become a noun as in “What is that stuff?”  It can even be used in the same sentence as both noun and verb.  “Pick that stuff up off your floor and just stuff it into your closet until after the party.”  It can be used to describe a state of being.  “Man, I’m stuffed,” might be heard in conversation after a meal.  Or technically you could say “That was good stuff.  I really stuffed my face tonight.   And I am stuffed, about to bust.”  I even recall it used medically.  Instead of a stopped up nose one’s condition can be described as a “stuffed up” or “stuffy” nose.  Quite a handy little word.

So it seems that stuff is at once, both and, and also, nondescript material used in the action of filling space that can lead to discomfort.  So I guess that is why I used it to describe my scribbling to date.  Over the years things would bubble up from my soul which would be jotted down and put somewhere like some toy that came in a Happy Meal.  I did not want to thrown it away necessarily but did not have any use for it.  So it got put in the stuff pile with the other things that had made their way out of deep places in me and on to paper.  The action of writing filled space for me in time when I was uncomfortable or stuffed up somehow.  But those actions were like a burp.  Made a little sound, provided a little relief, but did little good in terms of my overall state of being.  I was stuffed and had been stuffing material that I could not define into my soul.  I was stuffed up and was having trouble breathing in or out, within the stale atmosphere I had created around myself.  There is another use of the word that has a slightly different but similar connotation.  It is used commonly to refer to a psychological act where one “stuffs” emotional material, that is never processed.  That could also metaphorically apply to me.  It’s kinda “Dr. Philish” a bit but it communicates.

What started this little rant was me sitting down to write and feeling tired of the stuff I’ve been doing.  It is emotionally draining and after a while began to sound like Charlie Brown’s teacher in my head, wah wah wah wah . . . . .  I tried to work on some of the other but I got bored.  I had a little conversation with my Soul and tried to listen very hard.  What I thought I heard was that I could not move on until I had finished sorting through all that “stuff.”  I can’t get to a new place without finishing up the place that I am now.  If I try that again I reckon I will end up right back here.

Like a messy room that has accumulated years of stuff, it’s just not comfortable.  And after a while is a not a fun place to be at all.  So, I guess my task now is to sit down again and go through the rest of the stuff, keeping some and throwing out what is of no use.  I have already discovered some treasures I had forgotten.  It is no longer undifferentiated stuff anymore.  It now has a purpose and a place.  Some of the other I will hang on to for later, but the best stuff is what I can throw out and make room for the new.

OK, well I gotta go clean my room.  Seems like I’m not going to get to play until I do.  Be Groovy. 🙂