Your sacred garden is not simply
a monologue delivered by you
to the gods,
they answer back!
Make sure you heed their words.


the Cloudwalking Owl is a hermit who attempts to use gardening as one way of merging with the Dao

photos from his urban garden are courtesy of
The Boulevard Club and YouGrowGirl.com


stone pathway through owl clan recluse's garden from YouGrowGirl.com


photo of sunflowers along the street from the Boulevard Club




photo of butterfly bush from owl clan recluse's garden courtesy of YouGrowGirl.com



Essays:
the flu & you

Correct use of MaHuang/Ephedra & the truth about Chinese Herbs, weight loss, and metabolism

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dragon graphic

Creating a Sacred Space in Your Garden

by the Cloudwalking Owl

What is a sacred space?

"—it is not in the mountains but in the empty centre of man that the Tao is found."

p.206, The Teachings of Taoist Master Chuang, Michael R. Saso, Yale University Press, 1978.

Our gardens are physical embodiments of the values, insights and traditions of the people who create them. So when we set out to create a sacred space in our garden environment we have to start by taking a careful look at our hidden values, insights, and traditions. For example, how do you feel about litter?

A Japanese story mentions a priest who kept a formal garden. He was very particular about the raked gravel path, the carefully weeded beds, the immaculate goldfish pond, etc.. One day he had just finished the morning's work and was viewing the result with no little satisfaction. The resident Zen master came by and suggested that it was all quite beautiful, but it needed one more finishing touch. He then went over to a maple tree and gave it a good shake—showering the whole scene with leaves.

Some people's gardens embody even more suspect values than a love of lifeless, metaphysic order. I had a Tai Chi student who had a large property which he kept all in grass. This was cut with a small push mower. When I asked him why he didn't cut back his lawn size or purchase a riding cutter, he replied that he had three teenage sons and he wanted to keep them busy. (My thought was that he'd better be careful or else he would be teaching his sons that he did not value their time or effort.)


I'd ask anyone who is interested in creating a sacred space to contemplate what they mean when they use the words "sacred" and "garden", and try to understand the complex of nested meanings they have for you. I'll begin by trying to explain how my understanding of the sacred influences my particular garden.

I am a Daoist, and as I understand Daoism it is a spiritual path that places a great emphasis on living in harmony with nature. This means to me that any sacred space that embodies that faith would do well to be home to the natural flora and fauna of the surrounding countryside. Not only do I think it be best to not place many exotic plants in my sacred space, but I try to find seed and root stock within walking or cycling distance of my garden. A habit I try to follow is to walk around with a plastic bag, a grafting knife, and some pill bottles. This means that when I see a plant that would look good in my space I can take a cutting or collect some seeds. Local plants grow in vacant lots, woodlands and neighbours gardens. I also find that most people are very happy to share some of their local plant stock.

This not only makes sense from a genetic point of view (ie: using plants acclimatized to local conditions) but it also builds connections with your neighbours and lets them "buy into" your work. Since I have a "naturalized" yard, this helps build some much-needed neighbourhood consensus that what I am doing is worthwhile. It may be that I have rights as a property owner, but the fact of the matter is that I am also part of a community of people. If I make no attempt to bring my neighbours into the picture, I run the risk of having misunderstandings boil over into anger. This could result in by-law enforcement officers being called to spray the "noxious weeds" on my yard. It might also result in angry youth vandalizing my beds in the early morning as they stagger home from parties. (Ancient Taoists had to live in harmony with tigers and rhinoceroses—I have to deal with drunks and fussy neighbours!)


A second value in Taoism is wu-wei, or the virtue of laziness. This is to say that a great deal of the work we put into living our lives is unnecessary "busy work". If we look with open eyes, many of us will find that an enormous amount of our effort is not only worthless, but often counter productive. In the case of gardening, people routinely work very hard to spade over seedbeds before planting. I have found that this is totally unnecessary. Instead of working over the soil with a spade, I create the right soil conditions and let earthworms do the job for me.

I do this by covering the soil with a dense layer of newspapers and then put a 2-4" layer of compost on top of that. I then ignore the area for about six months. In the interim, the newspapers kill the weeds and turf by shading out the sunlight. In addition, the paper and compost hold moisture in the soil, which attracts earthworms. The grass and newspapers create a good food source for fungus, which spread through the soil and create what is called a "mico-rhizome" for future plant growth. (Mico-rhizomes, or "fungus roots", are an organism that exists in a symbiotic relationship with plants. The mico-rhizome helps the plant roots absorb water and some nutrients; and the plant helps the mico-rhizome absorb others. Many trees, for example, cannot absorb enough water through their roots systems to survive without a healthy fungus population in the soil beneath them.)

In addition, earthworms will be attracted to the compost on the surface of the soil. They will burrow up through it, eat and then retreat back down into the soil. They will leave worm castings (worm manure) in the soil. The holes will allow water and air to work their way down into the soil. The result is the lighter, more friable soil that could be had by turning the soil over, but with many more other benefits as well.


Another thing to think about when planting is the natural succession of plants. What we call "weeds" are usually species of plants that have evolved to thrive in areas where the pre- existing plant communities have been disrupted or damaged. Usually this means nothing more than a tree falling over in a storm, a fire, or a stampede by large animals. Unfortunately, people have disrupted and damaged plant communities all over the world, which creates excellent opportunities for these sorts of plants. Dandelion and ragweed are very rare in areas where people haven't been regularly "fussing about". In a sense, these plants are the earth's equivalent to a scab or scar tissue. They move in to cover the earth and are the first stage in healing the wounds that humankind has inflicted on our Mother.

When I plant a seedbed I take this natural succession into consideration and make sure that I use seeds for both this year and also for the future. The "scab" or "scar tissue" plants are some sunflowers that I found growing under a friend's bird feeder. I've saved and replanted the seeds so often that nature has reversed the selective breeding that man has inflicted on this lineage, and they have reverted to something like the original wild sunflower. This means they are short, many-headed and have small seeds. Because they have selected for survival instead of size, they grow vigorously and fast. This allows them to quickly dominate the bare soil/compost seedbeds that I have prepared. They protect the new perennial seedlings that come up in their shade and offer quite a splendid display. In addition, their small seeds are easy for small birds to eat and attract goldfinches and chickadees. (It often seems that the golden flowers take wing and fly away when I walk out to look.) After a couple years the perennials take over and the sunflowers disappear. Annuals cannot out compete perennials---except in newly disturbed soil.

At the base of the stems of the annuals, the perennial seeds sprout and slowly take shape. They have a different strategy. They put down roots and wait patiently for an opportunity to grow. They will stay in the shade and wait years, if necessary, to assert their dominance. This means that after the first year or two of sunflowers, the perennial flowers will be well-prepared to take over and begin to show their glory. In addition, the perennials will start to compete with each other and form a strong thatch of competition that will keep out any other invading "weeds". Not only will you not have to do any more than the bare minimum of maintenance, the flower bed will not even need much planting as individual plants mature and die of old age—there will always be a young plant patiently waiting in the shade for an opportunity to spend its years in the sun.


The above are only examples. They will not be applicable to all gardens, all climates and all personalities. You will have to make the same sort of self-analysis and dialogue with the natural world that I did to find out what works in my space and area. I will make a few general suggestions, however.

Instead of planning a sacred garden using a paper and pencil, I would suggest using meditation, ritual and play instead. Plan making is a head exercise, whereas the sacred comes from the heart. So the first step to creating a sacred space is take the head out of the driver's seat and let the heart take the wheel.

One way of doing this is by "imprinting" the space on your being. One of the first things I do every day of the growing season is to take a slow, meditative walk over the garden. This allows me to begin to really see and appreciate the constantly changing fabric of plants, animals and soil. Another important thing to do is find some shady spot and use it for prayer or meditation. By quietly sitting with the soil you will begin to really see the spot for what it is, instead of through the lenses of whatever you bring to it with you.

I would also suggest incorporating some sort of ritual behaviour into your relationship with the space. As a Daoist, I have a shrine to the Land God just outside the door of my home. One of the first things that I do every day is "open the shrine" by bowing and burning a stick of incense before it.

People of other faiths may follow similar practises that are more appropriate to their path. Natives might offer tobacco or sweetgrass to the six directions. Catholics could say a rosary at a shrine to Saint Francis or the Virgin Mary. People from other faith traditions should do some research to find out what is appropriate in their context. Folks who are outside of any specific tradition can invent their own. Someone could sit with her morning coffee and remember all the warm memories she has about the people in her life. Either way, try to incorporate some sort of regular event that allows you to take deep breaths, slow down, and appreciate the world around you.

I also think that it is vitally important to incorporate "play" into your gardening. "Play" usually refers to what children do and in the modern world has taken on the connotation of being frivolous and unimportant. Nothing could be farther from the truth. Play is the interactive relationship between the whole person and whatever they are using (or, being "used" by). The artist "plays" with her materials in order to see what they can do. The child plays with his newly growing body to see what it can do. (The Daoist always says that she is a tai chi "player"—to acknowledge this fact.) So don't plan so much as "try things out". Be whimsical. Use "found objects". Nothing you do in your sacred space cannot be changed, so be willing to experiment, take risks and make mistakes. As a music teacher once told me, "the musician who doesn't blow bad notes isn't trying hard enough".

If you are involved in a particular faith path, you might consider using this sense of play to imbed ideas referring to your faith in the substance of your garden. As I have said before, I have a specific altar to the Land God in my garden. In addition, I have a sitting Buddha nestled in my side garden by a cedar bench. I also have a sign hanging from a brick wall that proclaims "Know what is in front of your face and what is hidden will be revealed" (Verse 5, "The Gospel of Thomas, "p-475, The Five Gospels, Funk, Hoover and the Jesus Seminar, Polebridge Press, 1991.).

The inscribed board is visible from the sidewalk and I often see passers by looking at it. One day I was in my patio reading a book and a fellow came to the gate and asked if he could talk to me. He came in and told me that he had seen the inscription and it had stuck in his memory. One day he had been looking at another house and absentmindedly compared its yard with mine. Suddenly, he had thought about the inscription on the sign and some sort of profound religious experience had overtaken him.

What this incident means to me is that a sacred garden can be the physical equivalent of an essay, poem, or song. It can teach outsiders a new way of relating, being and feeling. So let your garden become its own "Gospel" or "good news".


Daoists believe that the light also comes with the dark, so I want to balance this uplifting story with a warning: Garden spaces can also attract people who have problems. At one time I placed dragon flags on the wall of my house. These attracted the attention of strangers who repeatedly and successfully tried to steal them. In doing so, they destroyed a basement window well by jumping up on it to reach the flags. Another time a friend talked me into installing Christmas lights on a trellis. These attracted people who broke the trellis to pull down the wires and pulled the bulbs out and smashed them against the side of my house, spreading broken glass through the soil.

What this taught me is that one has to be careful about what sort of attraction and energy one builds in the garden. The brightness of the bulbs late at night, and the fluttering, liveliness of the flags awoke the Yang energy of the drunken, late night revellers. Since these people are without any sort of useful way of releasing this excess energy, it spurted out in the form of vandalism. In my neighbourhood, it is necessary to make things as Yin as possible, so it can calm the chronically disturbed and upset people who pass by my home. In effect, by putting up Yang flags and lights I was doing much the same thing as if I had tried maintaining beehives in bear country—simply asking for trouble.

Your sacred garden is not simply a monologue delivered by you to the gods,
they answer back!
Make sure you heed their words.


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