Becoming Zen

Nourishing the Soul, Nourishing the Self

For those of you who follow my stories know that I live in the hills and that they nourish my soul every day. Like a good Jamaican, I followed my great-grandmother’s wisdom ‘land don’t rot’ she would routinely tell me, so often that it stayed with me - that it was something I must do, however long it took.

Eventually, decades after my great-grandmother left her earthy life, I bought my land and built my house that has become my home. Little by little bare concrete spaces were painted and took on their names and personality – bedrooms, living room, an office, all the usual suspects.

Importantly, the first room that was completed was my little meditation- yoga room that would eventually look out unto a Zen Garden. There was sweet satisfaction in that room. It signified that this was my very own house. I designed and built it, it was mine. No rental would have had a mediation-yoga room.

Inside the meditation-yoga room

The office was next as it paid my bills, while the rest of the rooms evolved. The kitchen took 4 years, and by then I knew exactly the layout that I wanted because I had worked in a space of trestle tables and plastic bins, and one lovely inherited open shelving and cupboard unit which I painted purple. The deck came 3 years later.

The Zen garden? It is still a work in progress, but looking out from the mediation-yoga room there is enough to call it by its name – becoming, like all of us.

Part of the Zen Garden with hand crafted iron birds perched in an old cage.

But as my home and I have blended and grown together I have come to realise that my entire ¾ acre is becoming a Zen space. It is growing into my House name – Santosha, Sanskrit for ‘Contentment’.

That seemingly odd insight happened today. I have been ‘spring cleaning’ for the last week – that’s a lie! I have really been decluttering for months – things accumulate and take root. Throwing out becomes necessary, parting company with old things, that still want to stay with me. Some are hard to let go. But I have been relentless, mostly. I gave away almost 300 books to the Public Library book drive, and my office is partially cleared out. It took a long time, stopping to read, and remember. You are parting with some of your visible past, whether it is academic books, classic literary works, gender readings, reports and other memorabilia from working with community groups, women in crisis, and stories that took you to forever places - each one a link to your own self – becoming.

The other many bookshelves, old photography equipment collected on a shelf – more memories not ready to let go. They, and half of the office still wait for me, as I moved on to the spring cleaning of linen and storage closets, and utility cupboards – clearing space for what comes next. There is always something coming next – and I am making space for that.

I have a little Kitchen vegetable garden and herb house (real herbs, not ganja) that helps to feed me, and tending them nourishes my soul, as it also provides nourishment for the birds, bees and other insects that also call my space home.

Weeds are pulled, food is harvested, water stations are refilled, the birds ‘watering hole’ within its own Zen space, is cleaned anew. The plants and herbs are watered, and even in May, the day is hotter than it used to be. I realise that it is going to be a long hot summer, even here in the hills. My harvested water will not be enough.

The little Herb House - Basil, Rosemary and Thyme, Nasturtiums, Garlic chives

The Zen Garden for the Birds - they love the watering hole, and this view is right outside my office window - so Zen!

As I move around my yard, my garden is evolving, space by space toward the vision of Zen. Not long after I bought the land, I also bought tiles that spelt ‘Meditate’ – they were the manifestation of my incomplete vision.

More years passed, and I rescued an old multi-painted wooden door from a friend who was renovating. The patina speaks to a life well lived, with still more to give. They arrived in two uneven pieces, which I loved and immediately planted them along a pathway I had created that would lead toward my mediation garden. The tiles have sat in the box all these years. Today they were released and glued on to the doors, heralding to all who walked this path, to stop, look, sit awhile and mediate.

While there is more work to be done, I can’t wait to see what my Zen garden becomes, even as I become and grow into the next version of myself, and hope desperately that I also will become more Zen, more often than the self I currently am. I feel sure that my great-grandmother watches me – becoming.