That's the essence of karma, isn't it, and really the core of the golden rule as well: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you... because that's probably how it's going to work out. The hurt we caused years ago may come back to humble us in the form of a humiliating sting or a gaping heart wound today. We often reap what we sow, and it's great in the garden. It can be great in everyday life, in our spiritual work, too, if we are sowing good seeds full of grace and compassion.
(painting by Carol Wisniewski)
I don't know if you've ever caused any pain to other people, but I have --- and I've written about it before, and worked to forgive myself, and all those kinds of spirtual practices, but I still regret it. I've never understood when people say they don't have any regrets. I remember hearing a friend say that once in front of his wife, whom he had hurt terribly at one time -- to the point that they divorced, but later remarried. She called him out on it, with a look of astonishment: "You don't have any regrets? He stood silent for a moment, and then said, "1951, '52." Yep, I believe we can find some regrets if we look back a few years or maybe just to yesterday. We're not going to wallow in them, but we're going to acknowledge them.
Jackson Browne has a line: "Don't confront me with my failures; I had not forgotten them." Have a listen. It's not just the things we did or said that haunt us, but the opportunities we had to say something, do anything before it was too late.
So, the other day I wrote about how the bright tiger lily had faded... remember? The post was called "The Bloom is Off." Well, what do you know? Today, a gorgeous yellow lily bloomed, and brought along her friends, twin pink begonias. There are always new beginnings. We can do what good we can where we are, now. I've been planting. I've got fifty corn plants, several tomato plants, squash, mustard greens, eggplant, verbena, basil, cabbage and collards, and more. I'm going to reap something out of all this digging.
Let's dig deep, spread seeds of belief, hunger for love --- and let's reap laughter and forgiveness. We can do that, right?
I even planted a scrap of potato, and it's growing into a new plant. The unexpected thing we were too afraid to hope for can still happen. What if there's even redemption?
A friend told me once that the longest road in the world is the road to redemption. Let's walk it anyway.
If it leads you to the church in the greenhouse, then I'll be glad to see you.
Tamara
(painting by Carol Wisniewski)
I don't know if you've ever caused any pain to other people, but I have --- and I've written about it before, and worked to forgive myself, and all those kinds of spirtual practices, but I still regret it. I've never understood when people say they don't have any regrets. I remember hearing a friend say that once in front of his wife, whom he had hurt terribly at one time -- to the point that they divorced, but later remarried. She called him out on it, with a look of astonishment: "You don't have any regrets? He stood silent for a moment, and then said, "1951, '52." Yep, I believe we can find some regrets if we look back a few years or maybe just to yesterday. We're not going to wallow in them, but we're going to acknowledge them.
Jackson Browne has a line: "Don't confront me with my failures; I had not forgotten them." Have a listen. It's not just the things we did or said that haunt us, but the opportunities we had to say something, do anything before it was too late.
So, the other day I wrote about how the bright tiger lily had faded... remember? The post was called "The Bloom is Off." Well, what do you know? Today, a gorgeous yellow lily bloomed, and brought along her friends, twin pink begonias. There are always new beginnings. We can do what good we can where we are, now. I've been planting. I've got fifty corn plants, several tomato plants, squash, mustard greens, eggplant, verbena, basil, cabbage and collards, and more. I'm going to reap something out of all this digging.
Let's dig deep, spread seeds of belief, hunger for love --- and let's reap laughter and forgiveness. We can do that, right?
(Woman Digging in an Orchard, by Camille Pissarro)
I even planted a scrap of potato, and it's growing into a new plant. The unexpected thing we were too afraid to hope for can still happen. What if there's even redemption?
A friend told me once that the longest road in the world is the road to redemption. Let's walk it anyway.
("Road to Redemption," by Char Wood
If it leads you to the church in the greenhouse, then I'll be glad to see you.
Tamara
Peace.
ReplyDeleteThank you, David. I need to write a new post soon.
DeleteLet's walk it anyway...I like the sound of that. I'm walking a winding road right now, and this was just what I needed. I like how you illustrated your garden for so much more than vegetables and flowers. It reminds me of how I feel on my walks. I'm going to have to write about that soon. Bless you, my friend!
ReplyDelete