Report From PIA – September 29th
Since I decided to post a new Report From PIA every day, every morning I wonder what in creation I’m going to write about in the evening. Every day and every blog is a leap of faith.
The magical thing is that not only has this regular post made me more thoughtful about the garden and what I do, but by evening something has fallen in my lap and I think, “Oh! This is what I’ll write about.”
I may start the morning determined to find God in the garden, to discover a new plant, or work toward a future book or speaking engagement, but by the end of the day none of that has happened. I often haven’t found what I thought I would, yet something else reveals itself, completely unanticipated.
“You can’t push the river”, it is said, and although I know this to be true, I also realize that if one sits back and does nothing, nothing may be what results. It’s like the joke about the guy who complains to God that he never wins the lottery. After many such protests, God’s voice booms out of the heavens: “Meet me halfway, man…buy a ticket!”
If nothing else, I am willing to meet God, the Universe, and serendipity more than half way.
I listened in on an NSA teleconference today that featured Ron Culberson and David Glickman. One of these men, and I don’t know which one, said something that rang true to me… should either one have a Google alert on his name, perhaps he’ll find this blog and tell me who spoke of this. In any case, Ron or David said that once he began looking at his presentation as a whole, his work improved.
He was advised not to see the talk as this story, leading to the next point and followed by another story, but to look at the presentation as a seamless whole.
While listening to this statement, I walked with the phone onto my deck, looked out to the garden and thought, “Yes.”
That’s what I want to do, not only in my speaking, but in my garden and in my life. I want to be able to walk down that garden path that runs between meeting God halfway and not pushing the river. I want to find that place where I’m not feeling like I’m moving from the next deadline, to the next speaking engagement, or the meal to be prepared. Instead, I’d like the garden, writing, speaking, home and family to flow as seamlessly as that river I’m trying not to press forward.
After picking beans, broccoli, and squash for dinner (and it's almost October!) I stood looking through the locust arbor toward the house, feeling that connection between garden, home, work and the rest of the world.
