The harvest is done. The deer got all the grapes. The voles feasted on the sweet potatoes (I rescued eight). The tomato hornworms had their way with, yes, my tomatoes – in spite of my propitiating the devas, thanking the parasitic wasps who laid their eggs on some of them, and hurling many into the woods to fend for themselves. A skunk dug up my newly planted lilac – the compost was just too tempting.
I try to protect my territory from invaders. But in the end, I see that there is a bigger picture. My attempts to control, to protect what I perceive as my territory only leads to rage, despair and cabbage worms. We think we’re in charge, captains of our ship, masters of our fate. We build walls, sink traps, use air strikes, and still find enemies.
This planet is inhabited by eight billion territorial animals. Each one is trying to protect their property, their family, their harvest, their fortune, their self-esteem. Each one has the potential at any moment to become outraged at invasion: trespassing deer, local riff-raff, foreigners, aliens (are they here yet?), the IRS.
When I dug up the sweet potatoes, pulling out chewed up remnants of my hard work, I sat sulking in the dirt, staring at the destruction. I felt helpless, defeated and a little stupid. I should have dug them up sooner. I should have known those varmints would eventually find their way in. I should have paid more attention. But the deeper feeling was of having been invaded. Robbed of what is mine. MY sweet potatoes. MY grapes. MY property.
If I can’t even let go of my attachment to my vegetables, no wonder we walk the earth in fear of losing what we consider OURS. When my husband eats the leftover pizza I had wanted for lunch, when someone parks in my parking lot at work without asking my permission, that same umbrage disrupts my alleged equanimity. I’m no better than the neighborhood cats, hissing at each other over territory.
If I could, in some small way, allow myself to let go of my attachment to what is mine, if we all let go of the small things, perhaps 8 billion small things could change the vibration on this planet. Maybe not. But it’s worth a try!
Here’s my small thing:
I have no upcoming workshops. I have no new products. I am filled with gratitude for all the people who have shared my vision over the years. I realized it’s been 20 years since I published my first book, What Are You Afraid Of? And I see that we are more afraid than ever. I still believe that movement is the avenue toward our possible evolution.
So in gratitude to all of you who have followed my writing, attended my classes, and inspired my continued exploration, I’d like to offer this. All profits of any digital purchases between now and Thanksgiving will go to the International Rescue Committee, the top organization for helping refugees internationally. My parents were refugees, and if they hadn’t made it to the US, I would not exist, and I thank my lucky stars every day. My effort is a small thing, but with each small movement we can change the world.
Thank you, bless you, and let’s keep moving!
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