corn up!

My friend and teacher David Elliott gave me and thirty other people a handful of corn seeds that he cultivated on his land in New Mexico. He also gave each of us a dried leaf of tobacco that he had grown. It was an empowering gesture at the closing ceremony of a three day retreat he held over Memorial Day weekend at his place. At the time I felt excited about receiving this gift but also a little daunted by it. I am just learning to garden and wasn't sure I wanted to tackle corn. How would I use the tobacco? He assured us that this corn would grow easily just about anywhere. You can just hold the tobacco in your hand, he said.

He does everything with a lot of intention so we all knew that these kernels and leaves were holding plenty of love and promise. We talked about gardening a lot that weekend, and about seeds too. It is more than just a metaphor for life, it is life. Since I got back the garden has become a more meaningful place for me to spend my time and energy. I love being out there with my kids, watering, working my compost piles, carefully tending our babies and of course digging in the dirt. I see it as an extension of myself, just the way I see my art and my family as extensions of me. They are part of me, the fruit of my creativity and nurturing and attention but also apart from me with lives of their own. The more I can see it that way in my garden and in my studio and in my house, the more balanced I feel and everything flourishes. It is easy to fall into the traps of believing that my art or my writing is all my creation or that the kids have learned everything from us. But in the garden it is clear that the plants live independently of me. I am their keeper but not their creator. I put the seeds in the ground but the seeds came from somewhere else. And some will thrive and others will not. I have to keep moving them around, trying different things to see what works best under what circumstances. This is very similar to making art. I don't create ideas from scratch, they come from other ideas. And when I write the words (when I'm really cooking) just come through me. I am their keeper. Even the kids. I have to experiment to see what works with them too. I can't fool myself into thinking I am the one responsible for the tantrum or the smile. I am just a custodian of this beautiful soul that I have the awesome responsibility of raising.

I've been holding the tobacco in my hands and it is powerful. I can feel the force of this plant through my skin. I use it to set intentions or to center myself. And the corn is coming up now, beautifully. I planted 12 kernels and there are twelve strong little shoots poking up out of the dirt. I feel so lucky to have them in my garden.