Germinating Our Spiritual Seeds

 This is the time of year, at least for those of us in the Northern Hemisphere, that makes us dig deep. As my acupuncturist says, we need to hold steady from the root. Even though our planet is warming in general, and it is not at all a good thing for our future, some of us are feeling that this winter has been especially cold and hard. It may be because there is so much dread and uncertainty in our lives since our new president has taken power and is making decisions that threaten our future in so many ways. It is harder than usual to feel hope. 

For many years, in late winter I've begun planting in January. Here at Prairie Hill I cover my front stoop with 25-30 planted flats of prairie seeds. These seeds need to be "stratified" before they can germinate (be out in the cold for a couple months). They'll begin to break the ground in April. I'm hoping to get this first planting done this weekend. Those of us on the Native Prairie Subcircle at Prairie Hill collected these seeds last fall, and we had a winnowing party to separate the seeds from their husks and branches last week. Now we have many bags of seeds to be spread in appropriate places on our 8 acres. They include fascinating names like Blue Star bushes, Purple Coneflower, Ironweed, Bottlebrush Grass, Liatris (Blazing Star), Orange Coneflower, Pale Purple Coneflower, Nodding Onions, Pink and Purple Aster, Lupine, Little Bluestem, Whorled Milkweed, Orange Butterfly Weed, Compass Plant, Prairie Petunia, and Penstemon Grandiflorus. There's even a bag with a question mark, and I think I'll plant those seeds too and see what comes up!

In addition to the seeds we've gathered here on our land, we've ordered the seed of some different plants that we'd like to get established here. Some of all these seeds will be planted in the flats on my porch, where they will get care during the following months. And some we'll spread out on the ground this winter. The best time for this is when there's snow on the ground and more snow is expected. So we're carefully watching the weather and are ready to move when it seems right.

Next month, I'll begin planting flats that will stay warm in my home until the weather is safe enough for transplanting outside. These seeds don't need stratification. They include veggies like peppers and tomatoes, flowers, and especially medicinal herbs (my favorites).These will grow in my house under lights until they're big enough to separate into their own little 4-packs, getting bigger and stronger as spring approaches, and they'll ultimately be planted in gardens and around our acreage. For me, this is an exciting time. And that is because seeds themselves are exciting. From tiny dead-looking things, given the right climate, they miraculously come to life! 

My imagination has started drawing parallels between seeds and our personal lives in these tough times. When our spiritual or emotional climate is in winter, and it is hard to feel hope, we can remember the seed, especially the seeds that need to be out in the cold before they can come to life. I'd say our wider scope of human life right now resembles that cold hard climate where there is little to make us hopeful. We're holding as steady as we can, stretching our roots down, but sometimes feeling angry or hopeless or powerless. Yet inside of us, there are seeds of determination and positive energy, a wish to build a world that we believe in, a drive to reach out to others and work together for the good of everyone. And given the right climate, those internal seeds can emerge. In this case, the climate is not the outdoor weather, but something else. And we can do things to create that climate within us. We all know how to do this, though sometimes it takes persistence. For me, it helps to start my day journaling with my light box brightening the room. Or when I am noticing all the bad things that make me angry, I make myself list the things I'm grateful for. Maybe the most effective thing for me is to get myself out into a natural landscape and just sit and be quiet. I did that a couple days ago, driving to my favorite park with the plan of walking the trails. But the trails were closed because of snow, so I just sat in the car in a lay-by under a big old tree. For me, the tree was my counselor, old, wise, experienced in life, with a broader view than the human one. With the tree in the foreground and a beautiful longer view in the background, I could get free of the worries that were plaguing me and just be another living relative here on the earth. I went home smiling.

A poem that is a touchstone for me these days is Wild Geese by Mary Oliver. It hangs above my bed, and I often look at it. I usually don't print other people's writing here, but I'm going to make this exception. I hope it heals you as much as it does me:

WILD GEESE 

You do not have to be good. 

You do not have to walk on your knees 

for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting. 

You only have to let the soft animal of your body 

 love what it loves. 

Tell me about despair, yours, 

and I will tell you mine. 

Meanwhile the world goes on. 

Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain 

are moving across the landscapes, 

over the prairies and the deep trees, 

the mountains and the rivers.

 

Meanwhile the wild geese, 

high in the clean blue air, 

are heading home again. 

Whoever you are, 

no matter how lonely, 

the world offers itself to your imagination, 

calls to you like the wild geese, 

harsh and exciting – over and over 

announcing your place in the family of things. 

© Mary Oliver