Cutting A New Life

It had been a terrible few years filled with unspeakable troubles and events and I knew I was starting to sit down. You know, the kind of sit down you don't stand back up from. The kind of sit down where all your fight and motivation and dreams sit down too and all you're left with is the sitting and the doneness of life. I knew I could not sit down. Somewhere on a deep gut level I was still ready to stand up so I stood up. I walked out to the field behind the house and slowly, laboriously walked to the top of the hill. I stood at the top of the hill gasping for air, bent over from achy muscles that had sat for too long, and looked down. I saw a gently sloping hill of grass and remembered an old dream. When I looked at the hill through the vision of that old dream, I saw a lavender field.

I knew lavender has healing properties. I knew sunshine therapy and hard work are balms for the soul. I knew that with a little work, I could dream again. What I didn't know is if I could actually do it. I had sat down for too long. I had sat down for long enough that the hardest work of all was going to be in the standing every day again, the trying again, the act of finding the determination again, the will to live again.

Before I could think for too long, I found a grower and ordered plants. Before I could begin to doubt, I called a friend to plow the field. Before I could go sit back down again, I made plans.

The baby lavender plants (plugs) came and I grabbed my scissors to cut open the box and I remembered what excitement feels like. I grabbed my shovel, string, scissors, gloves and plugs and headed up the hill again. This time, the trip up this time wasn’t quite as daunting. The freshly plowed soil beckoned me with the warm invitation of clean earth. With a deep breath, I took my first step into the field. Using my string and scissors I lined up the rows. Once the rows were lined up, I started to dig. The digging became a deeply spiritual exercise and each hole dug in the field became a moment of digging out what did not belong in my soul. The day was hot and humid and it took all day to plant that first row. That night for the first time in a long time I slept the deep sleep of an untroubled soul and mind.

The next day, I once again gathered my string, scissors, shovel, gloves, and plants and huffed and puffed my way to the top of the hill. My muscles were aching, my back hurt, and I was sunburnt, and I was grinning from ear to ear. It once again took me all day to plant the second row and again I slept the deep sleep of an untroubled soul.

My days became different as I stood up every day, climbed the hill every day, and remembered how to push towards a dream. Over the course of that first summer and fall, I planted over 1200 lavender plants huffing and puffing my way up and down the hill. By the end of the fall, I was almost me again, I had stood up again, and I had started to live again. I looked in the mirror at this tan face who resembled the person I used to be more than the pale, wan stranger a few months ago. There was a light in my eyes again and I was quicker to smile than I had been in a long time.

Throughout the winter, I kept walking out to the field to see how the plants were doing. I talked to them, coached them, pleaded with them to live through the winter. I even threatened to dance naked in the moonlight if they would stay around to watch! At long last, the spring thaw began and I walked the field every day waiting with bated breath to see if my lavender had made it through the winter. As the days warmed up, the plants greened up and at long last I had more days of laughter than I did of tears. Soon, the plants had flowers on them and the scent of peace and hope filled the air.

One day I woke up and practically ran up the hill. It was finally time! I could feel it in my bones. I ran back to the house for my well-worn gloves and scissors and buckets. I ran back to the top of the field and without even pausing to catch my breath I started harvesting lavender. With each snip, another chain came off. With each cut, another bad memory was cut away. With every flower harvested came a new beginning. It took me days to harvest it all. After tying them into bundles, I hung some to dry and took others to the local florist shops.

That was almost three years ago. Today, I have planted even more lavender and now take products to the local farmer’s market. I make lavender salves, candles and soaps to help others in their journeys towards healing and wholeness. My gloves have had to be replaced. My shovel is still going strong. My scissors have had to be re-sharpened but they are still happily snipping string, lavender plants, and packaging for the products.

It may be a silly belief and some may view it as dramatic. All I know is that one old dream became the hobby that did more than create happiness. It saved my life.