One Balanced Life

Five years ago I had a beautiful garden. In addition to my day job I working part-time in an amazing garden center to support my habit (of buying every living thing that struck my fancy). In the evening, I would walk out of the house to pick supplies for dinner - beans, tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers, and loads of herbs to add to the feast. I would make herbed cheeses and butters to take with to share with friends. I spent the end of season making pesto and sauces, and I was absorbed enough to take pictures to brag about my garden’s beauty and abundance…and then I went and got pregnant. I switched my focus to growing babies and caring for them. Slowly the garden fell in an almost comical state of disrepair. In fact some neighbor who will remain nameless reported us to the city for our unsightly “behind the garage garden” - my once beloved veggie garden was now a towering mess of weeds. And one day while nursing, I heard a crash – one of retaining walls (yes a tiered garden) collapsed. In all seriousness, I didn’t care that much. My attention was focused elsewhere and pretty much pretended we didn’t have a yard. And since my husband would rather be doing anything but yard or house work (whole other story where we’ve seriously debated switching to a downtown loft lifestyle) it was in a sad state.

But I’ve reconnected with my passion (and officially we’re not moving) for gardening. The boys are old enough to play in the dirt without me worrying about whether they’ll eat it. So we’ve been able to spend a lot of time out there. And while I lose myself in the digging I do find myself becoming obsessive about what I NEED to get done. The thoughts don’t stop – moving this perennial, digging up more grass, how many bags of mulch to buy, etc. I find myself focusing on the garden I want to have.

And then tonight, after tucking the kids in, I sat on the patio, and slowed down. I lost myself in the moment and gazing at the yard. I remembered to see the beauty in it’s present state not what it could become. The rose bush I planted for the baby we lost has come back in spite of complete neglect. The bleeding hearts and all of the native plants I managed to find time to drop in are thriving. Even the lilac someone gave us, which was plopped in the “berm” (a huge pile of dirt left over from various house projects – egress windows and patio) looks beautiful. I’m sure people (my sister) think it looks a mess…the crumbling wall and pile of dirt (I can’t move the dirt now that the boys have discovered - a massive dirt and sand pile is so much better than a contained box.) I prefer to think of it as urban cottage garden or better yet a farm in the middle of the city.

Tonight all of it is a sweet metaphor for life - to love where we are now. To slow down and appreciate our beauty and what we have accomplished. I’ll get the garden I want it just isn’t going to happen tonight or this weekend and I have more important things to do...like sitting here enjoying a glass of wine and relishing in its imperfections.

Now what to do about our dead grass? I do not enjoy mowing. Too ambitious to plant the whole yard?

After a group tonight, where we talked about focusing our attention, I came home hoping to knock some items off my to-do list. Within seconds of sitting down to the computer the baby started to cry. Since the kids are in the same room now (YEAH), I swooped hoping to avoid a bigger calamity....that he would wake the toddler.  Enjoying the delicious feeling of snuggling with a sleepy still baby, my eyes kept wandering to the glow I could see from the kitchen....the computer. Reminded of my to-do list I thought how I can I get him back in there without a scene.....and then I paused...and thought what in the world am I doing!!!! I just spent an hour and half guiding other mothers on how to experience more peace and balance by being in the now. A little belatedly I stopped the madness and surrendered to moment. A moment I hope remains in memory for a long time. The weight on my chest, the soft breath.... Knowing that as he grows these moments of quiet cuddling will be few and far between,  I lingered and reluctantly put him down. I was reminded of a similar post I wrote when he was younger. Ahhh, learning to be in the moment does really take practice. And it can be so delightful to practice, especially in the quiet hours. I'm reminded of one of my favorite authors I've referenced here before who talks of how our internal agenda interferes with our ability to be in the moment with our children. We are often thinking of the future the past anything but what we are doing now. So stop, take a breath, and be where you are.

Fall, I love everything about it! The crisp morning air, the smell and color of the leaves, the return of socks and sweatshirts. It has always been a time of transition for me. A time of endings, beginnings, births, and losses. Also a time of renewal and reinvention. After a chaotic summer made crazy with remodeling projects, my husband’s (almost) three week absence, and my mother’s diagnosis of breast cancer (thankfully she is doing wonderfully) I’ve found myself needing to get back to the basics. That means taking time to regularly connect with myself (not using free time for laundry, painting trim, or working), “being” with my family vs. doing things with my family, and simplifying (do I need to keep the maternity bridesmaid dress that made me look like a giant raspberry?).

What does getting back to the basics mean for you?

If you want to make your life a little lighter & brighter this week try a few of these...

Use a smaller plate
Spend time outside
Each day take a few minutes and pack up a bag for Goodwill
Have that conversation you've been avoiding
Don’t plan ANYTHING for the weekend
Buy fresh flowers
Say hi and smile

Last night in my evening group at Blooma, we were chatting about the stuff that clutters up our minds and rooms and drains us of our energy. One of the amazing participants, who comes from a family of 12, shared a strategy her mother used and I just had to pass it along.

Her mother would give each child a box before summer started and all 10 had to clean out their rooms...the stuff on their walls, dressers, all the accumulated toys and junk. Her mother called it "simplifying for summer" and explained that since they would spending all their time outdoors they wouldn't need any of it. As you can imagine by the time fall came around no one missed a thing. A woman ahead of her time who clearly didn't need a library of books on organization to deal with her dozen.

We become so attached to the stuff in our lives and don't realize the space it takes up. I encourage you to take a look at your life, your physical space (the counters, closets, car, etc) and your mental space (your relationships, thought patterns, self-defeating behaviors). What can you pack up this spring. Come fall if you haven't opened the box, let it go. What a great way to simplify!

P.S. Check out this for some great "stuff" about attachment.