Book Notes: A Gardener’s Yoga

pink primrose

Well, dearies, I don’t know about you, but I am throwing myself fulltilt into spring gardening. And gardening in spring means Hard Work. You know it does. I’m fully into my fourth or fifth day of really getting down and dirty (literally). This is the part where we are stretching and bending and pulling and digging and really taking what I call The Winter Body and giving it a run for its money. You know the feeling, right? I can prune this bush. I can dig this big hole. I can reach that branch. I can lift the (cute) new doghouse (with a porch!!) and put it in the backyard all by myself. And then I soak in lovely lavender bathsalts and stretch and sleep and get up and do it all over again the next day. And so many times while I’m in the throes of challenging and pushing myself in the garden at this early time of the year I have had a kind of half-baked thought that if I would simply incorporate my background in yoga into my gardening work, I might have a pretty darn good practice, and, hey, I’d call that master multi-tasking! And then, behold, a smart cookie named Veronica D’Orazio wrote a book called Gardener’s Yoga: Bend & Stretch, Dig and Grow! Praise be! It’s published by the nice folks at Sasquatch Books up in Seattle.
cover Gardener's Yoga

Pretty cute cover, I’d say, thanks to a talented illustrator named Tim Foss.

So from the get-go I could tell Veronica suffered from this same compulsion that I, and I am willing to bet you, also fall into. States she on the first page: “When I used to weed the garden I would enter some kind of bizarre green vortex where time seemed to stop. I experienced a strange, almost physical compulsion to clear and continue.” I know we all know exactly what you are talking about, Veronica. She goes on to describe the attending side effects of Living in the Green Vortex, my friends. “I would weed unceasingly. I forgot to eat. I forgot to socialize. Mostly, I forgot my body.”

Uh-oh. It gets worse.

“I would squat for three hours straight under the squash blossoms and then try to stand up. Stooped over and sore, I would hobble over to the hose…”

Uh, we get the picture, my dear. We have all been there (and still are, I bet!).

Anyway, she finally did learn to pay attention to her aching and loyal human vehicle, after what she describes as “the clincher.” [Why oh why must we always wait for the proverbial swinging door to hit us on our lovely patooshes??] Continuing in this frenzied pattern Veronica finds herself one blissful evening unable to stand up. “My back went out somewhere in the scented geraniums…” she laments. Now her body had her attention. Fortunately the solution lay closer to her than she might have imagined. Already a practioner of yoga Veronica begins to imagine how yoga might actually support a gardener in preventing injuries or the accompanying aches and pains that we all at times feel in manifesting our ambitious gardening endeavors. She notices the inherent links even in the names of some of the various poses: the tree pose; blooming lotus; mountain. These Sanskrit names which are over two thousand years old reflect a culture which had not isolated the body from the soul or the garden from the spirit. Ms. D’Orazio is a gifted, spiritually attuned writer and she deftly weaves the lines between the source of yoga and the source of gardening, all, in essence, one in the same.

What follows in Gardener’s Yoga are 21 poses, all beautifully illustrated by Mr. Foss, and eloquently explained by the author. Might I suggest this book as an invaluable companion to your gardening activities this year? If so, remember that as you approach each pose that what you are aspiring to is to reach only as far as you are comfortable. Here is the Easy Seat pose, a good beginning place:

Easy Seat Pose

While it’s true there is a correct form for each pose, one does not begin at that state any more than a baby comes out walking. You could use this book as a guide. Moving into poses is instant feedback about what you were probably heretofore unaware of in your body. Or you kind of knew but were hoping it would go away. Fortunately one of the many gifts of yoga is that most likely those stiff places will eventually melt simply in the sheer act of feeling them, and stretching and breathing into them. Remember yoga was originally designed to assist people who meditate to sit for long periods without getting uncomfortable. It makes sense it would assist us in our gardens as a practice. Here’s the basic seated spine twist. Your organs love this one:
Seated Spine Twist

When I lived in North Carolina I had a long wooden back porch that faced a virtual forest of a back yard and there I would privately do my practice. In Arizona I managed to find a quiet corner in the front yard, always using a thick yoga mat. I have yet to find the perfect outdoor corner here, but I will join you in that quest. It’s the perfect time. Keep me posted on your progress, will you?

Love and blessings,
Kathryn xoxo

A Secret and Where It Led

By now most gardeners are rather chomping at the bit to get some seeds in the ground and get things moving, right? However even reckless I am watching the mountains that lie out at the perimeter of this valley eyeing the snow with respect and making the decision to wait it out until the ground is a tad friendlier-warmer to embrace my plans. So what do we do meanwhile? I’m a woman with a home and I know some of the things you do. You clean. You mend. You bake. You sort out papers and the closet and piles that were neglected during summer and fall. And strangely, for some of us (more than you might think if the poll I took today is any indication) we look at that jar of coins and think perhaps it’s time to get them processed and start over. Am I right? Anyway, that’s how it is here. I have been throwing extra (read, weighty) silver coins in a crystal jar and all pennies in their own separate container. (It was pink. Yes, I say was.) Periodically, probably around now, I pull out those little paper sleeves they give you at the bank and count them up and take them to the bank. I started recently with the pennies, which were spilling out of their (pink) pot. As I was counting (and recounting) pennies I watched the aggravation mount in my mind and found myself thinking what an enormous waste of time it was to sort pennies and bind them in round paper rolls. SURELY there was something better to do with them. The time expended was not worth the value of what they were going to return.

And then a little light went on and I thought with a big smile:

Find a penny
Pick it up
All day you’ll have good luck.

Bingo. And so on the spot I decided that if I couldn’t seed my garden, I could seed the sidewalk out front. With pennies. But only the shiny ones, I decided. Otherwise, it wasn’t the same. And so ever since, over the last couple of weeks I have religiously been planting a penny at a time directly in front of my house on the sidewalk. Oh, I’m very sneaky. I really don’t want any neighbors to catch on to what I’m doing. It’s my secret. So I bend over to pick up a “weed” which has traversed the lawn, or, whatever. You get the drift. And I leave the shiny penny.
And then I simply go back inside. And during the day when I feel like a nice stretch I go out front and see if it has disappeared. And usually it has. And then I leave another! How fun is that??

So largely I had decided I did not want to see who was finding those pennies. It was more fun to just imagine. And my intention, simply, was based in the realization that the value of the penny, IMHO, was more to be found these days in the old addage which we apparently all grew up with, than in any true monetary value. I mean, come on.

The Universe did give me a glimpse, however, into how this little secret might be panning out. I happened to legitimately be out in the lawn pulling up an offending little weed when two rather middle aged women who were out for a walk suddenly came to an abrupt halt as one eyed the penny. She snatched it up in a single sweep and held on to it like a victory, displaying it to her friend. You can imagine the smile that stretched across my face, as I deliberately turned away, when her friend pronounced animatedly, “And it’s a nice shiny one, too!” Oh, joy!

Satisfied that my secret foray into penny seeding indeed had merit, I decided to write about it and post it here. I needed a photo of a penny on the sidewalk. I went out and placed one squarely in the sun. Click. Refocus. Click. Refocus. Click. Refocus? What the hey? This is not working. Why not? Maybe it’s too flat. Maybe my camera (set on auto-focus, mind you) can’t DO flat. I look up. Two young Hispanic boys are approaching me. Ah-ha. Boys? I need you.
OK, here’s what you do. See this penny? YOU, I point at one, pretend to be walking along, spy the penny and pick it up and show your friend. Easy, right? Kids always think I’m slightly nuts but in a good way. They go along. Click. Refocus. Etc. Ad nauseum.

OK, reluctantly I accept that after all these years and all these photos my Pentax has a boo-boo. I take it to a camera store, straightaway. They say they will send it in for repair until they ask a critical deathly question. “How old is that camera anyway? Ten years?” Uh, more like 18. Uh-oh. I can see on their faces this was the Wrong Answer. They pronounce it dead and obsolete. (How could THAT BE? Did they see my photos on my post last week? Come ON.)

I turn this over in my mind and I decide to “Ride the Horse in the Direction He’s Going” as Werner Erhard used to say, and I ask immediately about a digital, rationalizing with amazingly rapid speed that maybe the Universe is sending me the message to Go Digital. As in finally. Hasn’t it been just a week since a visitor to my blog asked me what kind of camera I use and I confess it’s a 35mm? Did I tempt fate?

In ten minutes time I’ve decided I want the new Pentax digital. It just feels right, it looks right, and, besides, my birthday is right around the corner (always the driving post in any expenditure decision in my book–did you read about my diamonds???)

I come home. I hit google. I find three offers. I email David Perry WHILE I’m on hold at Abes of Maine. (Please be home. Please be home.) And as I’m placing the order David kindly emails me that, no he has not done business with Abes, but his father has and that’s all I needed to seal the deal. (Thank you, Mr. Perry.)

So it’s on its way. And then I wake up at 4:00AM and I find myself asking myself, “What if it’s not dead? What if it’s the auto-focus? What if it’s not the Universe necessarily wanting me to Go Digital? What if it’s the Universe telling me to stop using auto-focus and (gasp) learn to use a camera???

At dawn I dig out the manual, which, mind you, I have basically not read in 18 years. It’s true. And I find the page on auto-focus and I turn it off. (Hello? It’s a little button on the front. As in On/Off.) And I grin as I put FILM in my Pentax. And I aim. And I shoot. And it takes.

I am now meditating, being a metaphorical kind of girl, on what “being on auto-focus” means to the Universe. If you have any particular insights, do tell.

Love and blessings,
Kathryn

Oh, yes, Happy Birthday to Me. Official Birthday Girl photo herewith:

birthday girl

My cake said, “Happy Birthday Beautiful Me.” I kid you not. Here it is!

cake

And here I am. Do I look HAPPY??? I am!

birthday girl

Spring Intoxication

tulip tree

This humble little town is awash in a blaze of blossoms, I swear. And frankly I would be remiss if I did not capture their blessed imagery and share with you, as it won’t last. There are not one but two magnificent tulip trees, as the locals call them, out in front of the local courthouse, formally known as magnolia soulangiana. Don’t you just love it? I see the words “soul” and something with an etymology similar to “angel” in there and it’s not a stretch to sit or stand beneath these breathtakingly beautiful trees and ponder a Soul Angel, let me tell you. I nearly took a ladder down there to really get myself inside their faces, but it escaped me and I accepted that this was, indeed, the human view of a tulip tree. I’m not a bird. And there is nothing shabby about looking from the bottom side up. Not at all. What a blessing.

tuliptreebranch

Meanwhile, back at home, this quince bush is outshining everything else in the garden at the moment, like some mystical burning bush of glory brightening the far back corner. It devours balls tossed for the doggies, so they are forever sorting through the thorny branches to retrieve them, fortunately none the worse for wear.

quince

If you have not been thoroughly saturated with color, take a gander at these camelias who have now joined the ranks of the ones I shot last week:

red camelias

pink camelias

A closer look:

single pink camelia

Can you imagine what it’s like around here at the moment? It’s affecting everyone who lives here. You can feel it. We are soaking it up like hungry piglets, reveling in it, engaged in a visual feast of vibrant color and exquisitely delicate shape and form.

Moving among all these flowers this week I kept thinking about what Eckhart Tolle talked about at the beginning of The New Earth, especially as I did listen to his first workshop with Oprah. [There are 500,000 folks participating from 139 countries simultaneously!! It is not too late to sign up. Just go to oprah.com and register. It’s free and it’s amazing, and you can watch the one you missed.] Eckhart suggests we go into nature and totally and conscientiously reframe from naming anything. Forget the names. Just be with what you find around you. Oprah, a true urbanite at this stage of her life (wouldn’t you think?) told him she tried it out. She said she loves trees, particularly the oak trees on her property in California. So heeding his suggestion, she went out onto her property and made a point not to name anything around her, but to simply be with what was around her, and that, indeed, she felt an internal shift, an energizing she had never experienced before. Honestly, as a Pisces I think I’m already less inclined to name plants I’m communing with. But I can see how naming begins the process of separation. (And you can extrapolate ad infinitum on this one.) Just something to think about next time you are out in your gardens. A little experiment. Please let me know if anything interesting shows up for you…

violets
Born with the moon in Cancer
Choose her a name she will answer to
Call her green and the winters cannot fade her
Call her green for the children who have made her
Little green, be a gypsy dancer

Just a little green
Like the color when the spring is born
There’ll be crocuses to bring to school tomorrow

Joni Mitchell
white crocus

(Did you click on Joni??? :))

‘Till soon…
Blessings,
Kathryn

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