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colors of a garden.
On 02, Apr 2011 | No Comments | In Uncategorized | By Natalie
have you ever walked through
a garden
in spring time?
when the dirt looks hard and tired?
brittle still from remeants of cold that
cling despite the sun’s beams?
untilled, rocky at the edges.
torn and cracked from
months of aloneness?
it’s hard to imagine.
that something,
that anything
could
come from:
grey-ness. dull-ness.
often
i assess the outcome
long before the
growing as even taken place.
i often desire the end, first.
without the process.
sometimes i desire to rush things
to rush people
to rush myself
into the potential
that is waiting.
lucky for me.
lucky for you.
farming is left to the wise.
who know better.
this past weekend.
i attended a yoga purification camp
sponsored by Ayurveda Yoga studio.
a group of 40 Koreans and various foreigners
headed up to a quiet hill location in Muju.
among many experiences,
who is in?
tea meditations
PanchaKosha lecture
crying meditation
laughing meditation
yoga nidra
kriya yoga
hatha yoga
various breath techniques
forest walking meditation
all-night mediation
it feels hard to sum up in any respect.
i was introduced to many new things.
my body and mind fluctuated
moment to moment
in how open and willing i was to push
and test myself.
all the while seeking to remain respectful
and listen to what was occurring
inside.
the balance.
is hard to have.
i couldn’t help but think
that
for something to grow
there must be a cost.
or at least, there must be intention
and time.
always time.
saturday evening arrived
bringing the deep rumbling desires for dinner.
as we made our way into the
dinning area.
never.
have i been greeted with a meal
so divinely pure.
breathtakingly beautiful.
creatively simple.
creatively simple.
the colors.
bright.
the forms.
natural.
the concept.
simple.
so simple.
i don’t think
i’ve ever enjoyed or rejoiced
over each bit of raw food bliss.
celebrated each
color for its color.
each taste for its taste.
each juice for the juice.
“well done. you grew splendidly.”
my mind wandered to the
grey-ness. dull-ness.
of the garden in spring.
the dirt, still caked and tight.
for as far as i could see.
and i was reminded
that sometimes it takes time.
and it’s unfair to wish the growing
process away.
because it all belongs.
the slowness.
the dullness.
the aloneness.
the greenness.
the gradual life.
the intention.
sometimes we get to chance
to experience the end
even if we are in the middle.
and sometimes it might seem scary,
the end.
but sometimes
it might be as wonderful
as eating the colors
of a garden.
and so i remind myself,
be present to the process.
and the colors.
be present to the process.
and the colors.
stay in touch
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