Weeds in the Garden

As I stood in the doorway, cup of coffee in my hand, wanting... no, NEEDING to go out to the well house, (which, next to the bathroom, is the closet thing to privacy I get here) and jot down a few flickers of creative thought.... she continued to read out adds for yard sales, planning out this week's "hunt", I guess, and bitched about how they were all too far away or uninteresting.  Then, as she finally noticed that I was standing there with a cup of coffee and a notebook, I explained that I needed to go write down a "few thoughts on a writing project that's been "shelved" for years....she made some disparaging, self-deprecating remark about she had no creativity, and it turned into ten minutes of a pointless pep-talk about how I felt she had to get out of her own way, and change her attitude, and work on cultivating what I call the "Huh.  That might be neat." factor.  Which, of course, she then argued about and said she couldn't reach "that state".  To which I responded, "You could, but you have to let go of judgement and expectation first."  I then wiggled my way out the door.  Finally having a few moments to myself, I stared at the painting I started 3 days ago, that I now don't even remember starting, nor where it was going.  "What was I going to write?"  All my creative energy has been drained away.  I am held in a position of Not Succeeding, so that she does not have to be reminded of her own shortcomings.

I think that the root of so many of my blocks (creative and otherwise) stem from how much I devalue/disregard myself.  My inability to "pick a major" back in 1992 was the result of this.  I asked these constant, insecure questions....  "What does GOD want me to do?
  What would be the best choice, given my abilities, to allow me to do the most good in the world?"  I never considered what I wanted to do.... What filled my heart with passion.  What energized my soul.  And now, 20 years later, I have found myself struggling with the "concept" of "Forgotten Gardens".  For a long time, I thought it should be a book, speaking out about ecological, environmental subjects.  "I could CHANGE THE WORLD with this book!"  But, every time I tried to work on it, I realized that I was trying to pull a masterpiece out of a starving soul.  The accounts of my two years on Stinchcomb Road are buried deep within, and are afraid to come out.  What would people think?  I already know that my mother thinks I "never should have had that house in the first place", so what business do I have, doing what I wanted to do during 2009 and 2010, and go running into the street in the middle of a rainstorm, shouting to the world that fairies are real?????


Some of the greatest weeds in our creative gardens are the expectations placed on us by other people, which are fed by the expectations we place on ourselves.  I "should be more giving/forgiving".  I "should get a Respectable job", and earn an Honest Living.  I "should do something responsible and not spend so much time daydreaming, or puttering in the garden, or playing with the dog".

What will people say about me if I die next week?  "Oh, she was SUCH a good LISTENER!"  Yep.  That's been my badge of honor all my life.  I'm a good listener.  What's it gotten me?  Middle aged, with no clear idea of who I am or what I want, having accomplished embarrassingly little of what really makes me happy, and with an ever-increasing feeling of frantic guilt.  "I'm not 'there for' my family enough.  They could be dead tomorrow and I have not done enough or helped them out of the quicksand they've intentionally stepped in.  I have not done something really great to contribute to society, or the environment, or to a spiritual pursuit.  And WHY is that?  Because I'm SUCH a GOOD LISTENER!  I am listening my way to an early grave!  I am neglecting my Own garden, to try to pull the weeds out of this person's garden, and water that person's garden, and maybe sew some new seeds in this other person's garden.  Meanwhile, my own is withered.

Take some time this week, to consider where the weeds in YOUR garden are. 

--

Erin McRaven

 

Bucksnort Farm & Art Studio

 

http://smg.photobucket.com/albums/v204/RavenWolf1013/?action=view&current=127C04AD.jpg 

A Walk through Forgotten Gardens

I want to tell you about a world.  A world where people are at one with nature, and art is not a talent or a skill..... It is a way of life.

In this world, people don't just imagine faces in the clouds, they perceive the souls of the trees in their own front yard.

I had a glimpse into this world, and I cannot be the only one. 

Can you sense the magic in a rainstorm?  Can you pick out it's "hum" from the hums of the honeybees?  Would you like to?

"Bucksnort Farm & Art Studio" was my home, and was a place where one could walk in both worlds.  On this blog, I invite you to experience the magic that was alive there, as well as my little herd of Nigerian Dwarf goats.  It is possible to have a little piece of heaven right here on earth.  Just ask Ray from "Field of Dreams".  The magic is inside of us, and in the rocks and trees and the flowers that bloom and the rain that falls.

The reason that most people are not aware of this (that includes me from time to time, right now included) is that we get so overwhelmed with what we are told is the Real World, and the push and grind to "make something of ourselves", and all the expectations placed on us, that we loose sight of the magic.  When did you stop believing in Santa Claus?  WHY did you stop believing in Santa Claus?  If "life is what we make of it", isn't the whole reason our lives are so "f-ed up" somehow directly related to the fact we don't believe in Santa anymore?  Where did the little kid go?  Where did belief and faith in magic go?  I've lived at both ends of the argument.  There was a time when I literally believed that the power of my belief could change the world.  And, there are times I feel totally powerless.  I'm sure that's true for many of you.

What has happened is that we left our Gardens untended.  Much like all the houses I looked at with a real estate agent a few years ago, most of which just depressed me, because I could see the "half-lives" of the former occupants.  The Gardens, sometimes figuratively, sometimes literally, had been left alone, and were now hopelessly overgrown, and parts were now dead.

Imagine what would happen if we tended our own gardens, and kept our noses out of the gardens of others, unless we were invited over for coffee?  Come back here, and take the walk with me, as we walk through "Forgotten Gardens".

--

Erin McRaven

Bucksnort Farm & Art Studio

http://smg.photobucket.com/albums/v204/RavenWolf1013/?action=view&current=127C04AD.jpg

 

Forgotten Gardens (by Mads Langer)

I have a trouble in mind
and so have you?
You might be colour blind
but you can tell false
from true

What is the colour of my eyes?
You're in walking distance
from yourself
but you'd rather stay away
tonight

The streets are dirty
and so is your past
restless timeless shadows
moving way too fast

Destination unknown
and these days you can't tell
days from nights

Is It dark,
is It light,
is It just another fight?

Nightingales cross your path
in the forgotten gardens
singing songs of your past
in the forgotten gardens

Reflect the sound
of silence in the moon
you're a frozen pearl
waiting to be
a flower in bloom
and let you
to their collection
of the lost

Sleepless nights
are not even that bad
it's just that
you've lost something
you never had

Nightingales cross your path
in the forgotten gardens
singing songs of your past
in the forgotten gardens



I lay the blame
outside the door
please please
don't come back for more
silence,silence
is what outside is
lay the blame
outside the door
please please
don't come back for more
silence,silence
is what outside is

Let forgotten gardens

Nightingales cross your path
in the forgotten gardens
singing songs of your past
in the forgotten gardens

Memories
cross your path
in the forgotten garden
singing song of my past
in the forgotten garden