The other morning I woke to find it still remotely dark outside and only an hour had passed since I'd laid my head down. Something was troubling my mind as sleep eluded me. Trying to put a mental block on the little pieces of nothingness that crinkle like crisp leaves on a cool late autumn morning a thought registered that was forgotten until now.
Its funny how something, anything and everything can stir something that once lay dormant. The very first week when I moved back to San Francisco a community garden perched in the middle of houses and out of plain sight was exactly where my eyes could see. How this garden was found remains a mystery but some small trickle of the unknown that it was a sign still holds true to my inner workings.
Plots filled the small space that over looked the 101 and the bay bridge. Birds of paradise bloomed in a corner while cucumbers and garden gnomes dominated another. I wandered through the narrow paths feeling like I was walking alongside a mass of raw history. A sea of hard work. A sewn root system.
I sat on an old creaky wooden bench taking in the scents and the fresh blooms knowing in my heart of hearts this is exactly how simple life can be.
To grow into a short lived piece of beauty that will forever leave a mark of rebirth.
The wait list to claim a plot was several people deep and almost a decade worth of waiting. I signed up without hesitation believing the light salted fog banks and the smooth lining of traffic would have been as much a part of the future as the sun rising each morning.
That familiar itch for something of an extremity, out of the ordinary and predicted pulled tight before a year had passed, pulling into a new path few and far between and the wait list was long but never forgotten.
Within the drive into my new workplace there is another community garden. I have driven passed this park and open space countless times and felt that same feeling that occurred during the wake up spell. Something seemed off.
While passing the plot with my mind completely stilled it hit me to the point of breaking. The car was maneuvered into the gravel of the plots and that is when it became clear.
In light of everything, all of this time there has been battles within, between family members, between friends. Moves have generated disconnect and intense needs for closeness at the same time. Though some relationships remain strained it is because there is a purpose that isn't quite understood on all levels quite yet. And while I sat staring into the sectioned off acreage I realized what that purpose was. I had formed roots. Roots that are solid and roped like a seamless grapevine.
Searching to build something, to wait for years only to hope that a foundation manifested but wouldn't get a solid feeling is terrifying. Seeking to the point of overlooking what is right in front of you happens all too often.
Staring at me for months, this garden is everything. It holds my secrets and joys, the fears that will get blown away as the seasons pass and the sheer excitement of new growth beckons.
It is exactly what I have been dreaming about but afraid on a subconscious level to admit to. I have created a base. A foundation that is safe, comforting, loved and welcome. A foundation that isn't about location but about the importance of where your heart lies emotionally. A basis that is harmonious and has always been, but hidden behind like time, was easily slipped from a good perspective. Hidden in the deep recesses of my mind and body but to never go ignored or un-acknowledged.
Something that can be called nothing but what is the obvious. Permanence.
Title Lyrics courtesy of Nelly Furtado; Try