Been thinking a lot lately about our formal description as Human Beings, and how difficult it is to just sit and be.
Being. In Eastern religions, it is a sought-after state. To perhaps sit meditating, feeling the breath entering and leaving your nostrils, not for ten minutes, but an hour or more. Watch thoughts that pass through your mind while trying to convince the body to be still. My thoughts parade a bunch of tasks with strategies for accomplishing them to cross them off my to-do list. I want to get up and do something. Yes, call me a Human Doing. So let me tell you about one activity I do in spring and summer.
First, I get on my special uniform. I call it my P. I. suit, for finding and pulling up the poison ivy. Paint-spattered work pants (no shorts!), colorful long sleeve shirt (too worn for wearing in public), slip-on boots (blue Blundstones from the clearance table at REI) and thick green rubber gloves.
I use a weeding tool with a forked end so I can push the stem aside to find where it comes out of the ground, then dig under to try to pull it out by the root. Sometimes it breaks off. But when I’m able to get a firm grip on the long, hairy root and the soil is loose, I can pull it out foot after foot, to find another plant on the end that I didn’t even see. Oh yeah! The loamy smell amplifies the rush of success. Next, work it carefully into a large plastic bag, leaves first, to not contaminate the outside of the bag, or brush my face. Keep looking around the property for those three notchy leaves, only rarely shiny. The goal is to avoid us getting that itchy rash, directly or from the dogs.
I tend to underestimate the size of the plastic bag, end up overstuffing it, but enjoy the satisfying heft in my hand. I elbow open the trash cart and plop it in. The same unexposed elbow can push down on the door lever, since I replaced the round doorknob last year.
At the sink, I wash with my gloves on first with special P.I. soap, although a bar of Fels Naptha works as well. After a couple sudsings, I clean the weeder, and my boots. If I think they were touched, I take off my shirt and pants and put them right in the washer. Suds up my hands and arms and scrub until the soap has done its work. Face and ears too.
When I go back to the area, I check that the poison ivy is gone, and next clear out the plants with thorns. I wish I knew what they’re called. One is like a wild blackberry that doesn’t really fruit. Another with green smooth stems that winds around and up any plant nearby. Next, I pull out the oak and maple seedlings that have no chance to join the canopy. As the shape of the land is revealed, I feel gratitude for being the steward of this place. This is a Human Doing doing a project with benefits. Dogs and humans can roam into this area now, no threat of picking up poison ivy, and not getting caught or cut in a bunch of brambles.
My several mornings of work has created a better view along the property line looking over the cow pasture towards Bull Head Mountain. Moral of the story: me as Human Doing clears the space for me as Human Being to sit down and watch the sunset.
