Inch By Inch, Row by Row...

Remember doing mazes as a kid? The incredible thing about a maze is that although all those squiggly black lines seemed to create a giant, overwhelming blob of places to get lost or stuck, it always told you exactly where to start and where to finish. Oh, and you get to use a crayon...but that's beside the point.

I must say, in many ways, what I learned from kindergarten has led me somewhat astray. No one tells me when to take a nap anymore; no one tells me it's snack time or how many animal crackers I can have. No one says it's clean-up time or time to play outside.

I grew to love and rely on the routine and order of the kindergarten classroom. For me, a lack of order has often felt overwhelming, chaotic, and quite impossible to overcome. To be quite honest, I spent many a morning in kindergarten crying next to my teacher. When my mother came in for parent-teacher conferences, "Miss Kind" told her about my tearful morning ritual. My mother was rather distraught by this and asked Miss Kind why she hadn't told her sooner about the issue. Miss Kind said it best: "Michelle just needs to cry. So, she cries until she's done and then she goes and plays."
I have a confession to make: last night I cried. In fact, I sat beside a woman whose kindness I also greatly admire. She let me cry and when I was done, and had slept through a night, I went outside and played.

Even though I am in my new Cave and wanting for it to be Home, I have found it overwhelming to even start that process. The space is covered with stuff, and unplanned events (demonized kitchen faucets for instance) seem to cramp my style of being overly uptight and addicted to order. And, in whatever order events do occur, my health is not where I'd like it to be. For all my desire to control my environment, my body has become the one environment I struggle to control and have no means of escaping. It's not that I lack knowledge of how to care for my health (or my Cave for that matter), but I have no idea where to start.

So today I took some advice from the Great Outdoors. I walked out to the yard and saw my Lovely Housemate's garden:Yup, it's in full bloom. Now here's mine as of today:

Gardens are pretty simple, too. There is only one way to start. You plant the seeds. In fact, there is no other way to have a garden than to plant a seed.

So, at the advice of a good friend, I got some fresh air today, and planted some seeds. I planted chives, sweet basil, some flower mixes and (quite late in the season) some spinach. I don't know what will cultivate and come to fruition. That's a lot like life. We don't know what will cultivate or come to fruition. In many ways, we have little control over that and more and more, I can see that as both beautiful and challenging. The most glorious gardens come to being simply by making an intentional act and planting some seeds. Planting a seed is also an act of letting go. You can water, nourish, and allow for sun. But, in the end, you cannot control the sun. You cannot control the rain. You cannot control aspects of the earth, the elements, and climate. It is in the Universe's Hands. She will cradle, nurture, and love that tiny seed with all Her being, but in the end it will either grow or return to the earth. So too, the Universe will cradle, nurture and love me with all Her being. I, unlike the seed, have free will, and in that can choose to live my life in fruitful abundance by making one simple act of intent at a time. I will start with intentionally letting go.

Some lessons from kindergarten still hold true. For instance, chocolate milk tastes best when consumed with a straw. (It tastes even better when you blow bubbles in it with the aforementioned straw.) Additionally, playtime is by far most enjoyable when shared with a friend. Kisses and a good cry make boo-boos feel better. And, when you can't figure out where to start, or you get stuck or lost, it's OK to pick up another crayon and start again.