One of the things that I do is weed the forest. It makes me think about a lot of things, and has become a deeply reflective practice. Recently, it prompted me to think about the difference between weeding and tending.
The dictionary defines weeding as – to remove a wild plant growing where it is not wanted in competition with cultivated plants.”
Weeding is something we do in the garden. We remove plants that are growing where we want something else to be. We might not have anything against the plants in particular, just that we’d rather have scarlet runner beans there. Or, sometimes, we may have a personal vendetta against the buttercup as it comes up relentlessly year after year doing its best to smother the raspberries. In both cases, there is a sense (sometimes false) of the ability to finish the job. Perhaps even more to the point, to make space for what we in our humanness desire to have there.
Weeding facilitates a plan, a premeditated desire for what will come. It leaves little space for curious unfolding.
This definition, I’ve been realizing, doesn’t quite fit what I do in the forest. I suppose I could just say that I remove invasive species, yet that lacks some of the intention behind it. Instead, I think what I do is tending. Certainly, that’s the relationship that I am working towards cultivating.
The same dictionary defines tending as – to care for or look after, give one’s attention to.
On my walks, which are daily, I make an effort to pull at least one thing. Liberate one tree from ivy, uproot one patch of herb Robert before it goes to seed. Sometimes I do a bit more, bringing a tool to properly remove the crowns of the non-native buttercup growing amidst the stinging nettle.
But there is no master plan.
I am not pulling weeds to make the forest more of what I want it to be. I will be thrilled if the stinging nettle thrives, if eventually it is large enough to be harvested from. But whether or not that happens, isn’t why I’m removing the buttercup. Instead, it’s about creating more space so that the forest can breathe. That the native plants are better able to thrive. I am in service to the forest, not working to dominate it.
One of the most precious gifts it has given me, is this deliberate attention to what is happening within the ecosystem. It requires searching to find the invasive before they go to seed, noticing which ones come up at what time of year, and observing the areas that are thriving versus those that look choked.
It’s taught me to study the leaves of the buttercup, learn to identify the different varieties. Notice how many variation of petal and leaf there truly are. Find wild delight when I stumble across a meadow filled with their bright faces in morning sun as they are now becoming friends.
Tending is relationship building. It takes time. It requires observation and inquiry to what is present in this moment. It happens when you return over many seasons, many years. It cultivates deep knowing and deep curiosity.
Healing can be like this too.
So here’s a question for you to meditate on – When you arrive for treatment, are you weeding, or are you tending within your body?
