In the Garden

I love landscaping—moving stuff around to create a space for plants and critters. But mostly I like to move rocks; the hard things that frame the soft things. I think my DNA memories must include Japanese Zen gardens. Whatever the reason, placing stones upright to make vertical lines affects my mind. Perhaps they lift my spirit by pointing to the sky.

On this unseasonably hot day, my attention to rocks is diverted toward a couple of young men wearing long-sleeve shirts and ties. They are knocking on doors in the neighborhood. I assume them to be LDS or Jehovah’s Witnesses and they eventually come my way and want to engage in conversation. We have a respectful exchange of ideas between LDS and Buddhism, noting some similarities concerning the afterlife, or bardo states. But my gardening mind wants to get back to work.

When one of them asks if he could read me a passage from the Book of Mormon, I do my best to graciously listen. When they get to the part where I am to have eternal life if I believed a certain way, I simply say, “I am not concerned with eternal life. I just want to be here now and help folks where I can.”  They smile and seemed to understand before moving on. I go back to placing rocks in the garden.

I think we have the best interactions while in a garden, where we share ideas on common ground. I like to picture how we can rearrange the hard things in our minds to create space for the soft things. We can let go of our tightly held concerns in favor of growing something vibrant and alive without feeling we need to convert or be converted. We just stand in the garden of shared terrain and have a conversation—then part with love and respect. Maybe congress should only host garden parties.