One Weed at a Time…

I fret over too many things that are well beyond my control.  I fret over my mother’s health and the upcoming election.  I fret over traffic, truth, and the demise of a 35 year old turntable.  Feral cats, students, my squinky eye, or just about anything can hijack my brain and set it to spinning a recording of worries that is not productive.  To counteract this ridiculous loop,  I turn to something that I can control: weeds. I pull weeds, and I try to meditate as I do so.   Yep,  weeding is meditation.  I select one part of the yard and start pulling.  Today it was the front path and the thin planting bed next to the house.  I pulled with my fingers or with the fork and yanked those suckers.  I gave the pulled weeds the name of a problem and dropped them in an empty kitty litter bucket.  At the end of about an hour, I had cleaner planting beds, a clearer head, and a tiny sense of control.  But I have really dirty fingernails.

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