Gardening and Meaning

Oh, it already sounds both pretentious and righteous. . .

Yesterday I spent the afternoon tweaking the Quick Hoop, planting various greens inside of it, sowing garlic, and cutting the last of the kale and chard.   The air had a wintry chill to it, and it was quite a change from Saturday.

Through the brush I saw my neighbor putting away the lawn furniture, but other than that I was largely alone in the neighborhood while working outside.  There were no lawn mowers or leaf blowers, just expansive silence.

Part of the reason for the blog was to help me to break a bad habit - watching television - and to commit to a life that is more meaningful.  I'm easily amused or easily willing to shut down - I'm not sure which - when watching television.  Television has addictive qualities for me.  

Many years ago I read Jerry Mander's Four Reasons for the Elimination of Television and his thesis still resonates with me.  Intellectually, I get it.  Emotionally, I struggle with letting my bad habit go.  Yet, I understand that staying clear of both sports and other forms of television is a day-to-day proposition.  It's accepting the smallness of my life.

Since I can remember I've watched sports on the weekend and this was well before ESPN.  It's a habit that I've carried every weekend of my life since I can remember, now only made easier by the cornucopia of televised games.   As a kid, watching a game played on the west coast had some sense of mystery (no jackets had to be worn in California in winter?) or seeing the college kids' from foreign lands like Texas and Oklahoma when Keith Jackson introduced them.  

At this point in my life, I don't care who wins or loses and don't really find them interesting.  For me it's a bad habit, like smoking.  And like a smoker who wants to quit, there are the endless relapses.  Now, I view games as placeholders and with a touch of nostalgia.  They eat time and give me something to do without really doing anything.   I should probably talk to a therapist about this.

By making a decision to spend the afternoon outside on my projects, I experienced a different rhythm and engagement.  Both felt more wholesome and real - imagine that?

With the time change, darkness fell around 5:15.  In the dusk I scurried to put the rake and hoe away.  My wife was with friends, so I was alone for dinner.  I sautéed some of the Rainbow Chard I just cut.  Rather than sitting quietly at the table and continue to experience solitude, I turned on the television to watch the Patriots and Steelers.

In Ken Burns's Baseball, he says that baseball, the national pastime, is a metaphor for American life.  Twenty-five years ago, I would have believed that.  Anyone who follows sports knows the real national pastime is football.  Taking Burns's theory and placing it on football, I believe his idea holds true:  football's power, violence, facelessness, special teams, and spectacle have replaced baseball's sacrifice bunt, sportsmanship, unpadded players, generalists, and grinding daily schedule.

In just a few minutes, I was bored.  The quiet rhythms of working with nature I experienced did not  synch with the screen.  

Now what?