A beginning is something of a mystery, for every beginning is born from something already there. Beginnings can be counted back in an endless web of connections and interconnections to… what? If we trace back far enough, what do we find? What is the spark, the point of transition, of energy into matter at the beginning? Which came first, the darkness, or the light?
And what is the spark which energizes each new beginning, moment to moment, in our lives?
“New Year,” “New Garden,” “New relationship;” at what point does the remains of the old transition into the Genesis of the new?
The points we choose, so often, are arbitrary; allowing us to compartmentalize our experience into neat piles. We close one calendar and open another. We open a packet and plant a seed. We shake a hand and say, ” Hello.”
Taking a snapshot in time and labeling it, “The Beginning” asks us to disregard all that came before. We are all deeply enmeshed in this recycled, recycling web of being.
We gardeners, whose hands are never far from the Earth, exploit the neatness of the system as we grow alongside our gardens.
We treasure the compost of our lives as the brilliant, energetic chaos which allows birth and sustenance of the new.
We watch seeds ripen from the faded flower; pull tiny bulbils from the base of last year’s bulb; cut a branch, root it, and watch it grow into its own maturity.
We look into our children’s faces and see our own grandparents.
We see all life and living as ripples and waves; light shining on an endless sea of possibility.
All Photos by Woodland Gnome 2014
Forest Garden 