Early in the morning, before the sun burned relentlessly hot , I went to my property’s edge and began to trim away at the weeds and grasses. The weeds and grasses had grown tall and willowy, tough and invasive. Not being sure of my boundary line, conscientiously I cut away a foot or two beyond where the lawn care had been maintained before I purchased the property. The lot beside me is vacant. I am awaiting a land surveyor to come out to mark my boundaries.
The lot beside me is vacant and the weeds and grasses there have grown to invade what I am sure is my property. In the few short weeks I have been here, they have inched their way into my territory. Early that morning I awoke with an image of me using my garden clippers and rake to clear away the invasive and offensive weeds.
With a cool breeze blowing in my face and the sun at my back, bent over I remained for hours, clipping away and reclaiming the integrity of my property. On day one, I was proud of my work and excited about this new project. On day two, I began to grow weary, to be sunburned and to doubt my sanity. On day three, I recognized and respected my human frailties and stored away my garden tools. Sufficient were the days of work, clearing the assumed line of boundary. With an aching back and blistered shoulders, I could now rest. I could keep clipping away for there is so much more that could be done, but a line must be drawn at some point. I cannot carry on indefinitely, at least until I learn where the proper property line falls.
Ironically enough, throughout day one, I began to notice that clipping away the weeds and tall grasses were not enough. For in the clipping, there created a bundle of debris that needed to be cleared. In fact, to continue beyond my first row, the new piles of clippings had to be cleared away or otherwise I could not see where I needed to continue in this back-breaking and ever-so-satisfying project of mine. Besides, raking the debris away gave me a chance to change my posture and to spend energy in a different way.
Ironically enough, throughout day one, two and three, I began to notice that raking the clippings turned out to be a heavy-duty task. You see, as I raked the row of clippings toward a “dumping” spot, the mound of clippings constantly grew bigger with each stroke of the rake. By the time I reached the end of the row, there was a huge ball of dead weeds and grasses at my feet, about knee-high to be honest. This weighty ball I initially pushed along as one on day one. That is, I kept pushing until the strength that I put into pushing the ball of weeds forward propelled me backwards and I landed on my bottom. My skin and my body are a glorious display of all my efforts, as colorful as the mound of debris now piled on the (supposed) back end of my property. That colorful display made its impression on me on day two. By day three, I learned to clip a little and rake a lot, clip a little and rake a lot.
Moving my bundle of weeds from the rows of collection to a point of disposal became a bigger work than clipping the weeds and grasses to reclaim my property line in the first place. Moving my bundle of weeds caused greater physical damage personally.
Ironically enough, setting boundaries (in life in general) is hard work in and of itself. Pulling up weeds (of bitterness, of jealousy, of anger, of _________ ) and cutting back grasses (of discontentment, of disappointment, of insecurity, of __________ ) can be a back-breaking and blistering undertaken. But carrying around the bundles of (past) weeds and grasses that have already been clipped away, honestly, causes more physical, emotional, mental and spiritual damage than the offending weeds and grasses did in the first place.
Aloe vera, anyone?