Sometimes It Takes a Pandemic...

I used to help my mother garden. We had an acre of wild land that was fairly impossible to tame, but my mother managed to from time to time. She grew vegetables and flowers. That was until the fucking goats would come on to the property. I learned that was what they were called just as soon as I could talk.

Yes. They were fucking goats. Not just goats.

That’s what my mother had called them in front of me (not on purpose, believe me, she was horrified when I called them that) and that’s what I knew them as until I learned that that particular adjective in front of the noun was not appropriate.

But when the fucking goats weren’t around and it wasn’t too hot out, my mother would garden. Normally it would be after a rainfall. The soil smelled sweet, iron rich and fresh. A smell that can’t be better described other than earthy.

I loved gardening with her. She taught me how to dig a hole just right and how to water plants that were freshly transferred from pots to terroir. She spoke to her plants and encouraged me to as well.

I didn’t do much gardening once I left home. I lived in places that I didn’t have the space to and when I finally did, there wasn’t “time” do such things.

There were more important things to do.

No matter who you are, we have all been affected by this pandemic. Most of us face uncertainties in all aspects of our lives, but some of us more so than others.

All of us are are facing the fact that we have very little control over the world that exists outside of our homes and that is humbling.

We have all found ways to cope with what is going on. Some days we do a better job than others.

I have been faced with the uncomfortable truth in the past weeks that I have looked outwardly for my happiness for a long time. I know that I am not alone.

I had left in my childhood the fact that simple things could be so healing. That slowing down is OK. That it didn’t make me a failure.

In the Western world, especially here in the U.S., slowing down is looked down upon. You work until you burn out. You find happiness through external pleasures. You strive and strive, but it is never enough.

What is sad is, as kids, we live only in the present. As we grow, we are taught that living just in the present will make us failures. That we won’t get into that particular school or get that stellar job.

And then we wonder why people have existential crises when they are in their 30’s,40’s and 50’s.

Covid-19 made me slow down. It made me realize that no matter what is happening in the external world, I can take steps to make my internal world a happier place.

As I put my hands into the soil, the memories came flooding back. I remembered my hours of gardening with my mother. It made me happy. Not only the memory, but my intention of living in the now, with my hands dirty. Trying at least.

Will we keep these lessons as the world finds a new sense of normalcy? Who knows. I am going to try.