Last week, a new friend asked me if I had any spiritual beliefs. Without hesitation, I replied, “I can’t wait to become compost.”
I realize this may sound a bit grim, but as a gardener, I’m a witness to death giving rise to life.
Soil. Dirt. Earth. Whatever you call it, it’s the starter of the garden. There’s nothing quite like burying bare hands into healthy dirt and lifting it free. The heft and scent of it. The hyphae strands like highways for worms. It’s a world of its own and to hold that cradled in my palms is the closest I come to communion with a higher being.
It was years ago now when I first learned of the mycelium networks in soil that my scattered thoughts on spirituality became cohesive. Everything is just energy in different forms. From spongy fungus to screeching hawks, tomato blossoms to cirrus clouds, box turtles to magnolias, dung beetles to humans–all energy.
When I say I can’t wait to become compost, what I really mean is that though I’m content in my current form, I know through the natural breakdown of my body, I could become so much more. In the words of Bill Callahan in his song titled Say Valley Maker:
“So bury me in wood
And I will splinter
Bury me in stone
And I will quake
Bury me in water
And I will geyser
Bury me in fire
And I’m gonna phoenix
I’m gonna phoenix.”
Earth Day garden pics