Simple Abundance

the tap never runs dry

This reflection was inspired by my feelings of renewal and connection during a time that feels fragile and without ground.

How do you maintain perspective, practice gratitude, and feel connected?

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Simple abundance. That’s what my life feels like when I can tune out the noise of our shattering world.

Scrolling seemed to have become part of my autonomic nervous system, creating something other than the sympathetic or the parasympathetic systems that have kept me alive until now.

I must have missed the moment when a 20-minute video became too long for my ever-shortening attention span, when I would watch for a few minutes before continuing the scroll, often without pause.

Without thought or consideration, I moved from true crime to politics (which have become interchangeable), to stand-up comedy, satire, and “Karen” reels. The boundaries that once kept me tethered to the earth began to dissolve before my blurry eyes.

Leaving Facebook was a good first step, but there’s still Instagram and Youtube!! UGH! One platform at a time.

The disconnection was real, but only lightly identified by new sensory sensitivities and a strong pull to be in nature.

My big, dreamy dreams of youth which had me on various stages, are now calls to my garden, small gatherings, and my cushion.

What once seemed so urgent has now found a pace that matches my new stage, one whose proscenium is barely seen, but felt by how it frames this unique time.

While managing the mundane things that require attention, the instability of our world, and the needs of those around us, it is still possible (even necessary) to engage with simple joys.

Last summer, my garden suffered from benign neglect; it became overgrown and overwhelming. This year, it is lush and thriving (I needed help to get unstuck, so found someone who helped me clean it up and sow new seeds). Now, I’m fully engaged in weeding, watering, harvesting, and grounding.

Each morning, I have my beverage (coffee or chai) on the back patio. The weather matters little, it is the feeling of gratitude for the day that moves me. The dogs, tails wagging, nip at my heels as I make my way to the sliding glass door that leads to the backyard.

They frolic and do their business, while I listen to the sounds from the sky – birds calling and singing to each other, flapping their wings and sending messages from up high.

I walk slowly to the garden to water it before the sun scorches the soil.

These are relatively quiet moments.

I pick a lettuce leaf and enjoy its hydrating crunch before spying a new pepper, tomato, squash, or cucumber emerging from its blossom.

Watching mother nature unfurl her bounty is humbling and inspiring. It is also a roadmap for how to live, appreciating the moments of aliveness while acknowledging the nature of impermanence.

Our disconnection has us purchasing scant yet expensive herbs, wrapped in hard plastic, when planting them is cheap, easy, and abundant (even in small urban spaces).

I made pesto yesterday, from the basil in my garden. I would not have made it if I had to buy the basil, due to the expense for so little, coupled with the thought that it could “go bad” before I used it.

The bonus is connection to source, something that has become so vague and elusive, is now clear.

Holding the soft basil leaves in my hands, raising them up to take in the aroma, touched my sensitive olfactory nerve with a gentle vitality that still lingers.

I am now eagerly awaiting the new crops to appear so I can use some and give the rest away. There’s no reason to grasp when nature’s bounty is naturally generous.

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It’s no surprise that I’ve been gravitating to people and experiences that reinforce connection to each other and the natural world.

Last night, I had a magical time at the home of a friend I’ve known since first grade. I left that school after third grade – fast-forward to the early 2000s when Facebook informed us we both lived in the same town. While I’m no longer on Facebook, I am forever grateful for this reconnection!

My friend and her partner live on an exquisite property of which they are equally exquisite stewards, reforesting their acreage in a way that reflects nature itself.

They are the Mushroom Mavens, foragers whose reverence for the earth is direct and beautiful.

Last night’s event at their home included a delicious pickle juice margarita (with tiny pickle), six course meal, and glass of wine. Eight humans gathered around a large table, while they served up an informative, healthful, and DELICIOUS meal!

And so much of the goodness came from their garden.

I left with new friends, mushrooms, and memories that will nourish me for a very long time!

My impulse to stay home was bypassed by a deeper desire to be in a space with heart-driven humans and support these types of gatherings. Their passion for curating these experiences, stirs my imagination and moves my heart. We so need this right now!

Your garden doesn’t need to be lavish. Your table doesn’t have to hold the masses. You are not required to bear the weight of the world.

Maybe it starts with a small pot of herbs you grow on your counter or inviting one or two people to share a meal. Perhaps it’s bare feet on the grass for ten minutes while breathing deeply into your body – each breath a prayer of gratitude for being alive.

Oh, and maybe turn off the news and stop scrolling.

You can be informed and still feel your joy! If we run in the same circles, you know that your joy is a revolution (which can often lead to revelation)!

Thanks for reading this far! I’d love to hear what you do to feel connected and grounded.

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Ps. There were ground cherries (I think that’s what they called them – ripe when fallen to the ground and wrapped in nature’s paper – sweet and palate cleansing) as well as, a golden Nectar that I forgot to snap a pic of before I downed it! It was warm and went down like silk.