A Gardener

A gardener plants, prunes, thins out the excess, waters, nourishes and keeps the plants safe from creatures that would do them harm. The rest is up to the plant, the climate and the mysterious forces that are in constant flux. Some plants thrive year after year, others die for known and unknown reasons. Some years there is a bountiful harvest and some years are lean no matter how carefully the plants are tended. This year, after all the rains we had in Sonoma, my garden is flourishing. Baby peaches, cherries, apples and persimmons grace the trees and red, orange, yellow and white roses splash the landscape with vibrance. The sounds of birds flying through the trees and building nests is everywhere. It is beautiful beyond imagining.

Last week my granddaughters friend was shot and killed. I knew him when he and his twin brother were little boys, when his parents tended and cared for him. But no matter how careful we are we can’t always shield our loved ones from how their life unfolds. This young man left behind two small children and his twin brother, who was also shot but survived. I’m writing this frankly because it is so horrible it calls to be laid bare.

The Tibetan Lojong teaching number 42 says, “Whichever of the two occur, be patient.” I’m sitting in the middle of this glorious spring garden and the unimaginable grief of a family who lost their son and brother. It’s hard to reconcile how life can be so contrasting, how this beautiful world full of birds and flowers and children can also be filled with such profound loss, cruelty and horror. It’s something I may never understand.

Glistening beauty and profound grief are humbling. No matter the state of our health, how much money we have or how intelligent we are, we are all subject to their often surprising appearances. Even meditation and spiritual practice is no guarantee that our life will be filled with bliss and free of the slings and arrows of suffering. Both come in a flash. Many of us come to Buddhism in an attempt to make sense of the pain in this world, to finally be free of it. Some of us even use meditation to push away that which we would rather not experience. But pushing pain down doesn’t get rid of it. It just plants the pain deeper into the unconscious where it is projected onto others and creates all sorts of misery for ourselves and those in our life. We simply cannot shield ourselves from grief or guarantee a life of bliss no matter how hard we may try or how many decades we sit in meditation. Believe me, I’ve tried to enlighten myself out of this human condition! It all just needs to be felt.

Both suffering and beauty are essential elements of every life. Lojong teaching number 42 tells us to just keep walking, to approach the dark and the light with patience and not get fixated on, or turn away from, either-- to stay aware through it all. We may never understand why pain and joy exist but if we can manage to stay open to both there is the possibility of transformation. Something in us becomes richer each time we connect our sorrow with others sorrow and allow our bliss free passage.