I
remember when I lived off the grid in Oregon.
It was on the edge of nowhere which is often more full of somewhere than
the agreed upon “somewhere” that people call cities or townships. I had gone to the farmer’s market in the
nearest town and traded a vendor daffodil bulbs in exchange for a shoulder
massage. I came back to the nowhere that
was very much a somewhere to plant these bulbs in the earth, but I did not have
a shovel. What to do? The ground was full of small rocks that were
lodged into the packed earth, tightly holding onto their mother. After being used to dwelling in one spot for so
long, they did not want to move. But, I
wanted to plant flowers to add much needed color to this landscape.
I
sat on the ground next to my small, crumpled paper bag of bulbs and put my
hands on the earth. My hands became the
shovel. But, that is no easy task when
the earth is so tightly packed with an order that makes everything fit
perfectly, an order I intended to disrupt by planting bulbs. Perhaps the fairies wanted to see flowers on
this land, too. I felt that there was a
force helping me that I could not see, but had the same intention.
When
I tried to dig with my hands without any order, it was grueling. If I had not surrendered my situation, I
would have been there to this day, puzzled with tired hands. Instead, I “heard” which rock I had to pull
out first. Magically, I was guided. First I needed to loosen this rock before
that rock would budge. Then I needed to
tend to a rock nearby that held others in place. There was an order to this digging and I had been
“invited” to partake in changing the scheme of things one stone at a time. I could not rush things. I could not control things. I had to listen to which stones could be
dislodged first so that they next one would come loose.
I
was able to remove enough stones, one at a time in a certain, unseen, order, to
create space for the daffodil bulbs. I
had left that area before winter, so I never got to see the yellow splendor
that decorated the earth, but I was told they spread and created a fairy world
of wonder.
It
is years later that the memory of planting those daffodil bulbs wafted into my
consciousness. I was trying to make things
in my life change without heeding the lesson of one stone at a time. I was
frustrated at the timing and seemingly disorder of things. I wanted situations to work out the way I
thought they needed to be. Instead, I
had to stop and remember that lesson:
One Stone at a Time.
We
can become depressed when we think things are not working out as we
planned. But, thinking in another way
can help us remove a lot of negativity.
One stepping stone leads to another stepping stone. One stone is loosened to help remove another
one. We don’t have to understand, with
our ordinary mind, the whole process. We
might understand some day, we might not.
Trust the process. We may only
“hear” to remove one stone at a time or to step on one stepping stone before
another, but we may not see the whole picture.
Something important is happening,
but it is below the surface so we cannot see it. We often panic or get depressed because we
cannot see the order underlying things.
In our fret to control, we might try to remove stones that are not
loosened by other stones first. We might
try to jump to stepping stones that are too far away from where we stand,
causing feelings of failure and misery.
We might lack patience and try to bulldoze everything at once leaving
ourselves exhausted and disconnected from our true selves. We might live our whole life trying to dig in
areas that are not meant for daffodil bulbs.
Relax. There is an order to things when we stop to
connect with an energy that speaks to us when we are quiet and receptive. The rest of the world may not understand,
but that is not important. What is
important is that your intention to beautify the world in some way has been
heard. You will be guided, step by
step, to loosen stone by stone. This, in
itself, is a way to overcome many types of depression. Trust the process. Listen to your heart.