Wednesday, September 10, 2014

The nourishment of dirt

I love Derek Rydall's wisdom and tree analogies.  This is something I heard a while back and then again this morning and it resonates with me.  I think our culture suffers from this burden of perfectionism.  Some of it is personal drive to overcome perceived wrongness; some of it is societal facade...Everything is always fine with everyone.  
I am, however fortunate or unfortunate it may be, a picker.  I always have been. I like to pick at my wounds and figure out why they are there, what do they mean, and what do I do with them.  My favorite brilliant astrologer Mark Husson used a zit analogy...but I just can't. :)
Anyway, I think periodically I dive under the surface into the dark, purposefully though not always consciously, to browse the dark depths.  I have always judged myself for that on some level.  But this, from Rydall, validates this need for me: 

Our attempts to pray, affirm, or visualize away all the bad, ugly, filthy parts of ourselves and our life are like a seed trying to pray away all the dirt -- which is made of everything that has died and decayed before.If it could, and it succeeded, it would find itself sitting atop a rock, no dirt in sight. And when that sun came out -- the very thing that is meant to activate the life within that seed -- it would burn it to a crisp!Instead, that seed naturally plants itself in the dirt. Buries itself in it. It doesn't reject it, it embraces it. It doesn't see it as a grave, but a womb -- from which it draws rich nourishment and begins to "grow down," not just up.As the roots dig deeper, the shoots reach higher. As it descends into the darkness, it ascends toward the light. If you look at an X-ray of an oak tree, the root system is like a mirror of the branches, showing that what's below is not only as important as what's above -- it's all one.

So here's to your dirt.  It nourishes you. It is part of your humanity and is, therefore, divine. Unraveling the mysteries of ourselves and all our little cogs and wheels and springs and levers and clogs and rusty bits and non moving conveyor belts is part of the blessing of life. 
Granted, it's a pain in the ass. And sometimes the heart.  
Cheers.  Here's to emotional mud pies!