Blood Doesn’t Drip From Petals

I recently read a blog titled Gardening is stupid. Do this instead…, I was thisclose to leaving him a nasty comment or two explaining why he is completing wrong, “You don’t know what you’re missing? Why do you leave your raspberries on the branch to rot? I have grown approximately 20 tomato plants and not one was squandered to a greedy chipmunk.” (I am sure raccoons,  rabbits, and probably even chipmunks have taken a tomato or two, but plenty remained for me to enjoy.)

But then I stopped. Delete. Delete. Delete. Until the comment box was empty again.

I treasure gardening; a new found passion discovered in recent years. I find absolute, constant peace when hunched over a fresh hole planting strawberries. Joy in watching, week by week, the tomato plants greeting each other with their branches, corn sprouting in model fashion, peppers throwing underground root parties (the hot ones are more aggressive in the meet ‘n’ greet than the mild peppers), and the squash tangling with the fencing. I cannot think of a better way to spend an afternoon than weeding (I know, I know. I have lost a few of you with that one…I mean, really, who likes weeding? Admittedly, I do.) Clearly, I am the extreme opposite of DesMoinesIsNotBoring.

Then it hit me. Rather than rattling off at someone for his opinion with furrowed brow, I should accept…no, embrace…his differing opinion. Especially in today’s age of rage reaching unfathomable heights—Aurora movie theater, Gabby Giffords, Newtown School, and, of course the Boston Marathon.

Perhaps, acceptance is what is needed now more than ever. If we accept (distinct from tolerate) people—for who they really are, who they want to be, what ails them emotionally or physically, what angers them, what they treasure—our eyes might stop filling with tears or hearts solidifying with incredulity. Maybe if heinous acts of violence will stop, then we can feel safe. Too hopeful? Maybe, but don’t we have to start somewhere?

When news broke of the Newtown shootings, I sank on my couch, stunned, and watched the coverage with red, swollen eyes. (Maybe you did too?) When news broke of the Boston Marathon, I clinched my teeth and cried. Just pissed, I vowed to never go into a crowd, stadium, football game, movie theater, or any place with crowds of people. Is no place safe?

My thoughts drifted to the beautiful wall of sunflowers we grew in our garden last summer. Reaching approximately 15’ tall, they towered over me. I wandered in between the rows getting lost, taking pictures, and moving methodically so as not to disturb the bees. What I would give to feel that security and safety of the sunflowers rather than watching news coverage of the bomb blasts creating blood-stained streets. In the safe solitude that only a patch of dirt can offer, I just want to get my hands black and be away from the danger. Blood doesn’t drip from petals; anger doesn’t grow in roots.

Then, I discovered a recent Facebook post by Diary of a Mad Dispatcher in response to the Boston Marathon tragedy, “…Not everyone knows this, but today is a holiday in Massachusetts. It is Patriots' Day. Bostonians by nature are overly patriotic. I think it has a lot to do with the historic roots of our fair city. Today a coward, or maybe even a group of cowards, decided that they would try to destroy that beauty. They have no idea you cannot destroy that kind of beauty. History is embedded to the core of that city. You may crack the pavement, you may injure us physically, you may strike fear for today, but you will NOT destroy our spirit. We will pull ourselves back up, we will be better than ever. We will not live in fear, we will fight back. We are Bostonians, we are Americans and we will not hide like the cowards you are.” 

And a sense of community came over me.

Maybe seeking refuge under a community of sunflowers and hiding from crowds is not the answer. As the Mad Dispatcher indicated, even if someone attempts to destroy our beauty, it will not be destroyed. “We will not live in fear.”

I take my fingers off the keys. I breathe.

Instead of responding angrily with DesMoinesIsNotBoring blog post, I simply acknowledge his opinion, then embrace his opinion. His experience is different than mine yet that does not make his opinion any less than mine. Perhaps, if we embrace our differences as well as our similarities, we will hurt less, bleed less. And, I will not only continue to garden, but maybe I’ll even share our veggies with DesMoinesIsNotBoring. I grow it; he enjoys it.

It’s a start anyway.

Harvest late last summer

To the City of Boston, Boston Marathon Runners, and family and friends, my heart breaks for you. 

May you find your own peace among the sunflowers again.

My peace. Someone noted that it looks like the sunflower is winking at you.

Happy bees.

They hover over me; protecting me.