The Wheelbarrow of Life - Could be related to something therapeutically valuable...

Today I fondly remembered my shiny blue wheelbarrow that I purchased from Home Depot in August of 2007. I also purchased a Honda lawn mower with Smart Drive which makes it easier for dainty females (and men who might not be very strong due to age or infirmity) to steer and push lawn mowers through grass that should have been mowed a week or two ago. And I purchased one of those weed whackers with the green string that could kill you if you are not wearing the appropriate safety gear, such as a suit of armor, goggles and army boots. When I loaded my beautiful blue wheelbarrow with stuff, I usually overestimated the amount with which I could safely travel across the yard because I did not consider myself a helpless and dainty female. I considered myself tough and resiliant despite the fact that I worried about how awful my toenails looked when I wore sandals. I loaded it with branches, weeds and bear crap; lawn clippings, unwanted thistles and rocks, and proceeded to push with all my might to "the pile." I was thinking this "pile" might somehow evolve into a wellspring of life-giving compost, just like the compost bins my brother in-law Richard created in his yard. Almost anything was compostable in Richard's bins and they often issued a nice plume of steam which meant the bacteria were having mad sex all the time and the ecosystem was fairly bursting with life. The earth will be saved all because of Richard's efforts and I meant to emulate him as much as possible.

But my wheelbarrow only had one wheel and I was only one small woman and despite my imagined power, I lost control of it because of my tendency to overload it. I tried to stop it, but its momentum gathered and it headed for the creek just as the lawn mower had when I left it idling for a moment while I caught my breath. It was my own damn fault; I'd waited too long to mow and I was mowing grass that exceeded my determination. My blue wheelbarrow spilled its contents all over the nicely mown grass all the way down to the creek and I had to wade in to retrieve it hoping the paint wasn't scratched.

My wheelbarrow was often loaded with shit from bears, dogs and deer until I began to treat the bear and deer shit differently than the dog shit. The bear shit was a symphony of berries and apples and I asked myself what Richard would do. I actually abbreviated that thought to "WWRD." Instead of loading the wheelbarrow with poo, I just got my shovel (also purchased at Home Depot), and used the "scoop and fling" method, which was kind of fun. I flung the bear and deer poo into the landscaped areas that I paid far too much money for so that the ecocycle could continue. Bear and deer shit, when airborne, distributes very well and all areas of the garden and landscaping benefitted from this method. That shit is loaded with bacteria plants can use. They recognize the code and they dance with delight as they are showered with berries and "bearly" digested apples.

The dog shit was different. That shit is just plain foul because most people feed their dogs from bags and the food is made of ghastly mixtures of things, just like what Kentucky Fried Chicken or McNuggets are made of. The farts alone from this type of product can kill a human when no other ventilation is available. So I threw the dog poo into the garbage. I am sure that two years hence, it still festers in the dump trying desperately to decompose along with Twinkies, Kotex products and Pampers.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes...the wheelbarrow of life. So today, when I fondly remembered my shiny blue wheelbarrow and the various things I chose to load it with, I thought of how I often load my life with things I think I can push but inevitably end up feeling exhausted, tits up in the creek, wishing I could just take a nap right then and there and stop working so hard to push things that don't really matter.

And I thought of how nice it feels to have a balanced load. I thought of the wisdom in throwing things out that simply do not belong in my life and the lightness I feel when I can offer things to nature that need to be recycled. I do not need to keep more than a few pairs of shoes; I only need one car and one bike. I don't need to stock up on things in case the world ends because if it does, I would rather just perish along with everything else.

I find that these days, I live life as if I might die tomorrow. I love deeply and I love with devotion; I don't hold back anymore and I take risks even though the fear makes me cry. And I let go of what doesn't really make sense to tote around.