Eyes of the Soul

January 15th, 2009

The gate to my backyard used to have this round opening cut in it before I had to replace the whole fence and the contractor decided it was a mistake to be rectified. When I looked through to other side, it was like a magical viewfinder, framing a slice of my prosaic property in a brand new way. I wish I could remember to use that framing device more often during the course of a day. The “eye” was there when I bought the house, and I loved it because it reminded me of a Chinese moongate, which was conceived as the opening to a spiritual garden. My backyard is far from spiritual unless my fight against fire ants and sandspurs is a metaphor for my ongoing battle with my worst character flaws. But when I first moved into my house, I began planting ¬†bamboo, a plant that symbolizes strength and resilience–qualities I long to have. From small plants, they have quickly grown into luxurious trees. My dream is eventually to have a living wall of bamboo around the perimeter of my property, swaying and rustling in the wind, casting shadows of poetry under the full moon. One small spiritual step at a time.

3 Responses to “Eyes of the Soul”

  1. Di Mackey says:

    I love the sound of the bamboo plan.

  2. kathleenbotsford says:

    How beautiful is that? I would also venture to say the qualities you yearn for are ones you already possess.
    P.S. Thanks for the trip down memory lane with Leslie. I love it!

  3. Allegra Smith says:

    One of the most beloved qualities in bamboo for me is its persistence. I could only plant them in big, black planters as even the non-invasive species have a tendency to forget about non invading in our garden. After a bad ice storm I mourned what I considered the beautiful stand, death. Everything was gray brown, soaked and slimy and gave it the chances of an ice cube in Hell to survive. Spring came and among the dark brown stalks, little green arms were waving in the wind, teasing me to believe. Both planters flank now a statue of Quanyin to remind me that hope and compassion are inseparable. Learning, always learning…