Thursday, May 17, 2007

Compost


Yesterday I worked hard. I tended my garden, both literally and figuratively. I inhaled the clean, spring Seattle air mixed with the smell of fresh mulch that held just a hint of manure. A pile of dark earth was delivered to my home. Who knew that a mound of dirt could hold so many opportunities for discovery, such as tiny rocks and other things that somehow survived the composting process?

Is life on earth simply a composting process? Before yesterday I thought of the composting process as only a breaking down or decaying procedure, but interestingly enough the root word ‘compositum’ actually means ‘something put together’. So, I ask the question again, is life simply a composting process?

I wonder, will we allow ourselves to be broken down until only our true self is left, like the pebbles that arrived in my heap of compost? Will we stay in the process until there is no more space for barriers and defenses? Until what you see is what you get? A life as pure as a pebble.

We are called to be true to our nature. A rock is a rock. A bird is a bird. Water is water. People are people. We cannot be anything else. Yet maybe we are most like water as we take on the colors and reflections of the world around us. But when we try to reflect what is not our nature, there is disharmony and confusion. If water reflects a flame, it does not become fire. It is still water. We, too, can reflect many things, but to be at peace—to be whole and true to ourselves and to God—we need only be who we naturally and truly are at our very core.

Some of us resemble rocks and some are free as birds, others are beautiful flowers blossoming anew each day. And, me? Well, I am simply a child playing in this magnificent garden.

6 comments:

Sunrise Sister said...

Compost - you're speaking my language! Love this piece.

The water/fire line is a vivid mind/visual depiction. KUTGW:)

Sunrise Sister said...

The poppies photo....sent me off into writers' ville - to begin with, what a gift the photo is!

And the poppies themselves...
tall, slim, beautiful bodies with no expectation of what time, sunlight, cold and rain will do to their features - their coifs, their straight and narrow spines. If they were told what to expect, they wouldn't believe it anyway. Let them preen in the sunlight and draw the applause - it would be too devastating if they were to see in advance how their being would dissipate into the earth.

aka lucy said...

ah, my poppies (and yes, this photo is MY work not dear hubbies :-) they go too quickly into the earth for my liking. hmmm.

love your words...may have to bring them out to another post.

Sunrise Sister said...

I'm even more impressed with the photo now that the author has been announced!

Sunrise Sister said...

May I assume that you recognized the teenager/poppy metaphor? I could see the preening preps distinctly in your poppies.

....where do my survey results show up for the "what time of day are you quiz?"

Anonymous said...

Hey Tinman #2....I figured it out!!! I loved this piece and I especially liked Broken for you...It's beautiful.....I know that sometime soon some of this writing will be placed as quotes in other writings with your name under it....How about it? Signed the Tinman with a Heart!!