Responding to Difficulty

We’ve had such lovely weather these past few weeks. After an early spring where it wouldn’t stop raining or get very far above freezing, we’ve had glorious June days with cool nights and articulated days of full sun. The heat and humidity will come later, but for now the mountain laurel is in full bloom. Even the fragile and wondrously gaudy iris have been in bloom for several weeks.

We’re also in the middle of a mini-drought and I’m now glad for the earlier soaking that has sustained most of the perennials. And I don’t mind the daily watering that is required to get the annuals settled to the point where they can tolerate a few days without active watering without fainting.

My daily ministrations begin with filling up two two-gallon watering cans at the side faucet. Then I carry my thirty-two pounds of water evenly balanced on each side as I wander through the different sections of the Temple garden. It’s not just the annuals that need support. All the perennials I moved earlier in the spring to create more room or to fill in empty spaces in the garden also need tending this first year. As I stand trickling water over my little charges I imagine the moisture soaking down through the soil, encouraging the roots to go deeper and deeper. Self sustenance is of course the goal.

Each plant has a different tolerance to these dry spells. Some, like black eye Susans and marigolds, once established, are relatively unfazed by periods without water. They don’t panic. They simply stand still and wait certainly for the next rain. I wonder if, beneath their calm exterior, they silently adjust their leaves—quietly closing down respiration to conserve moisture? Or are they naturally light breathers?

But some, the divas, like the impatience and the pansies are quite dramatic about their needs. They swoon at the first sign thirst—going limp and flopping down as if death were imminent. I then must rush in as the hero to revive them with a long drink. Nothing happens at first, but after I walk away, they miraculously rise up and often go on as if nothing had happened.

As a young boy, I was taught that it’s much better to be like the tough ones than the demonstrative ones. Don’t show what’s going on inside. It’s fine to have feelings, but one shouldn’t talk about them, they should just be understood. I still think there’s something fine and honorable about bearing whatever comes without complaining. But the line between complaining and sharing useful information and asking for help is often lost on me. I’m so well-trained that sometimes I hardly know myself.

Of course, in my own way, I can be quite dramatic as well. When I’m in a bad mood, I go around inside myself as if the world were coming to an end. Everything is stupid and I get lost in the world of suffering that I am carefully narrating and maintaining with my internal complaints and observations.

Sometimes it’s just too embarrassing to admit how petty I can be. I’d rather be equanimous and easy-going. The truth is, sometimes I am and sometimes I’m not. Sometimes I can be still and content in the middle of the inevitable droughts that come and go. Other times I lose myself in stories of lack and separation and throw myself to the proverbial ground in my mini-despair. Limp and helpless I wait to be noticed and rescued.

I’m learning to be thankful for both sides of me and for all kinds of flowers and people. Different styles of response. Different shapes and needs. Different capacities in different moments. How wonderful!

As long as I remember the fullness of it all, then I can also remember to appreciate the necessary differences between me and you—between me and the many different universes I encounter in the garden and in life.

Personal Practice – What is your style of response when things are not going your way? Notice the little (or big) irritations that arise for you today. What is your natural tendency? Do you keep quiet and wait for things to change? Do you make sure others know immediately? Can you notice without judging your style to be better or worse than someone else’s?

What would it be like to expand your range? If you tend to be a hold it inside kind of person, what if you complained a little more today? If you comfortable sharing your internal weather with others, what if you said less today? Notice what happens when you step over the line of whatever rules you have been taught.