On my way home from Yoga this morning, passing through a lovely little valley with fields on either side and the occasional home, I saw a young man with a lawn mower mowing right down to the edge of his property...in fact, he was in the street so that he might get the best angle for mowing.
As I drove by, I realized that it wasn't the grass he was trimming, but a stand of blue and purple Cornflower, Queen Anne's Lace and a little white trumpet shaped vine that rambled along like a toddler, without a care in the world.
The mower tilted the blade so that it could act as a sythe, and all the "weeds" tumbled in a fresh green cluster, soon to darken, dry and decay.
I found myself wondering,"Why do we sometimes feel the need to trim right to the edge?
Why do we take our purpose, our intention, to the bitter end? Why can't we just allow for a bit of space around things--the plants on our property, one another, our own thoughts and sensations?
Why is it so difficult sometimes to allow for rambling? For a little disarray?
I have deep urges to act as sharp as a scalpel sometimes, even as the cutting goes too deep to heal properly. My tendency is to use a very big lawn mower, and hey, if I lose a few wildflowers in the process, well then, that's the price to pay for order, for known comfort, for life as I want it....or is it?
Doesn't a bigger hammer do a better job? Shouldn't I pound a little harder?
People around me, as I wield that scalpel, do not sprout and refresh so effortlessly as the wildflowers along the roadside.
In another week when I go by again, the Cornflower and Queen Anne's Lace will be thick and lush again, without a trace of the drastic trimming.
But other sentient beings hold the memory of a sharp word, a careless action, a thoughtless moment. It lingers, and retains a tinge of holding back, even as we desire No Holding Back!
Allowing for space is the foundation of not holding back. Allowing for ease of blurring the edge....