Limiting Time and Space

Yesterday, in Worcester, MA, the sky was bright blue and the sun shone all day. With temperatures in the low sixties, it was a glorious spring day. I had the great good fortune to spend a good chunk of the morning repairing the edging of one of the woodchip paths that leads to a sitting bench under the katsura trees.

The woodchip walkways we have in the Temple garden require constant maintenance. The woodchips themselves last about two years before the multitude of microorganisms quietly dissolve them back to rich dark soil. And the stones and bricks that edge the walkways seem to want hide themselves in the earth. Every year they sink into the dark coolness beneath them.

My job is to interrupt their entropic desires and get them back to their job of boundary sentinels for the path. I don’t think they mind. In fact, I like to imagine they are happy for the attention and enjoy their momentary participation in the multitudinous patterns of the garden.

To refresh the walkway, I unearth each stone and reseat it. As I work, I have to remember to step back often to make sure the width and curve of the path remain inviting and steady. This is wonderful work on a fine spring day. The part I enjoy most, aside from the pleasure of stepping back at the end and feeling that order has been restored in the universe, is that the task itself facilitates a limiting of time and space.

It’s not a challenging task, but it requires gentle attention. The random shapes of the rocks help me resign myself to imperfection so I just do the best I can—moving stones, digging and shaping the earth and woodchips that will guide the feet that will come. For a couple hours yesterday, my time space was delightfully limited to this particular activity in this particular space.

It’s such a relief to be where and when we are.

Gardening—whether actively cultivating or the gardening that is simply the walking through or looking at a garden—is a wonderful way to accept this endless invitation to be present.

Personal Practice: Find some simple physical task to do today. It should be small and fairly easy to do. Cleaning and tending and sorting are all good activities. As you work, allow your task to be what you are doing. Can you work easily and trust what your body knows and does and sees? Enjoy the job. Then step back and appreciate how this small corner of the universe sparkles just a little brighter.