Typically, after I put down Tater Tot and he drifts off listening to Carly Simon's Into White album, I make a mad dash for the laptop. This evening, I was especially eager to begin writing this post since my computer is back (yay!), and there's just something about this li'l ol' white laptop that helps me feel expressive. Maybe it's because my husband gave it to me, intending for me to pick up writing again several months after my child's birth? It's just special.
Tonight before I dove headlong into that sea of words and images conjured by the wiring in my brain to see what...if anything...that I could dredge up, I took a little time to light some candles, find a favorite mug for my water, and even place my latest VG harvest (two zucchini and three yellow squash, if you're wondering) in full view like little vegetable muses. Why all the fuss? Well, if I'm going to wax about the spirit of intention, I wanted to walk the walk...or type the type, as it were.
Since I was seventeen, I've practiced yoga in fits and spurts. Besides the tremendous physical benefits, I find it profoundly moving--spiritually, emotionally and intellectually. And I love the sense of vitality that comes from moving in the moment, with clarity of purpose. Unlike just about every other physical activity, there really is no "particular" goal with yoga. Some may like to become more limber or stronger and take up yoga, only to find that there is so much more to it (and quite a few people move on because being here now is too daunting or boring or whatever).
Today, I credit my experience of yoga, together with gardening and researching/writing, as having transformed me. Sure, I'm still kinda jittery and kinetic and, well, driven, but I do know what flow is and can bring it on if I make it my intention to do so. If I'm scattershot with my efforts at cultivating wellness (and yoga is only a part of that) and in turn I feel poorly, I only have myself to blame.
Intention is powerful. Transformative.
Now when it comes to thinking about my garden...how it is tended...what lives in it and on it...I'm increasingly stuck on the notion of intention being germane. In cultivating a garden, we make choices about what we let in, what we (try to) keep out. More importantly, we make some crucial decisions with long-term implications for how we go about managing the flora and fauna around us.
Living on the edge of the Texas Hill Country, I have critters aplenty. It is not unusual, for instance, to see deer trot-trot-trotting down the sidewalk or breathing heavily behind my fence. When I once commented (not complained per se) that a deer had noshed on my favorite rose bushes a few days prior, an accomplished gardening friend commented that the animal wouldn't have stopped by for a late night snack if I didn't insist on using "the organic stuff...if you use the harder stuff then it wouldn't taste so good." This was said in jest...but maybe there was a kernel of truth there? I dunno. Anyway, because I'd been vocal about my growing concern about pesticides...and had been very careful during my sons first year or so that he ate mostly organic...(yup, I fell off the wagon, thinking it wasn't as important as it was, um, is)...I guess it was only natural that folks would assume our yard was totally organic.
Newsflash: ours is not a 100% organic yard--despite perceptions. (GASP!) Nope, it isn't. My secret is out. We've got landscaping mulch that I'm positive was chemically treated. And I've used Miracle Grow and Amdro and even RoundUp in the past. But we're using those kinds of things with less frequency and greater care than ever before, largely because we don't want our toddler rolling around in it. Or, heaven forbid, eating the stuff off the ground. (Notably, our VG is almost 90% organic. We got a late start this season, so I have some non-organic transplants. The mulch and soil and fertilizer--minus one application of Miracle Grow--is organic.).
Furthermore, in my reading of late, I've run across some disturbing bits of information about the origins of modern pesticides. Namely, they have their origin in chemicals developed for military use in the First & Second World Wars, especially under Hitler. I've been to Dachau, I've read about Auschwitz...read the defiant works of Weimar Republic writers...gas, human torture...these are not connections that I really want to make with my everyday life, let alone my garden or my food.
As far as I know (and I haven't gone actively looking yet, afraid of what I might learn), none of those specific chemicals are in my garage right now. But their residue may very well be on fruits and veggies in my not-quite-wholly-organic larder. I have to confess that the very idea that these chemicals were developed with the intention to destroy humans scares the bejesus out of me.
My mother, whose own family used pesticides and inorganic fertilizers like millions of other mid- and late-twentieth century American farmers and gardeners did, told me the other day not to worry about exposure to such things in my yard and food...she and lots of other people lived alongside DDT and turned out just dandy. The fact that she has suffered for years (as her mother before her did) with a devastating auto-immune disease seems, in her mind, to be a separate issue. I'm not so sure it is unrelated. Granted, DDT was still used recently in some parts of the world, arguably for the greater good in areas where malaria is rampant. And I'm certainly no expert on pesticides and their (essential?) role in modern agriculture...but I don't think that I want to eat (much more of) that kind of stuff, if I can avoid it. Bad mo-jo from the get-go, I think. And I don't like the idea of eatin' bad karma.
And I'm more certain that I don't want my kid near it, especially firsthand. If that means that I'll have to get clever in warding off deer or just factor in their snacking, then I will. Same with fire ants, I guess, at least until they get a little too close for comfort. Come Saturday morning, Tater Tot and I will be making a trip to our new farmer's market, where I'm going to ask about organic options. Tomorrow (um, make that later today), we're going out with friends to a new lunch spot that is gluten-free and I'm pretty sure uses mostly organic fixins. But before I go nuts and toss out the contents of my pantry and veg bins, I'm also going to take a deep breath and remind myself of the lessons that yoga has taught me.
In yoga, when new practitioners feel pangs of discomfort, they are encouraged to back off a bit, to breathe and learn to relax into the moment rather than to throw themselves into a potentially strenuous move. Basically, if you don't move slowly, thoughtfully and with intention, you risk over-doing it, overwhelming/over-taxing yourself and burning out. Very often, however, one discovers that one can in fact strike a new pose if one just looks at the situation calmly and moves steadily with mindfulness and intention.
That's kind of where I am right now in my gardening and my drift toward "safer" local foods. I'm becoming more aware of the issues, thinking about them more deeply, puzzling through what's right and preparing to move forward thoughtfully and carefully. Solutions will begin to appear--some already have. Other gardeners may want a more radical approach upon discovering some of the same information, and that's fine. But I'm going to go with the method that works best for me and mine.
That's my intention anyway. I'll keep you posted on how it works out.
For Further Exploration:
• Very good article on the difference between goals and intention in yoga, meditation and Buddhism here, by Phillip Moffitt.
• Regarding some recent developments related to nerve gas derivatives in agriculture, see "Time to Stop Using Nerve Gas on Farms?" over at The Daily Green.
• If you haven't read psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi's body of work on flow, you owe it to yourself to do so. I saw him speak once and found him as charming as his work suggested that he might be.
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