Finding Nature in the City

Walking to the grocery store a few weeks ago, I noticed a tree branch on the ground. It had been knocked off a small street tree. I thought, “if that’s still there on my way back, I'm going to take it home with me.” 

It was. And I did. I can only hope that right now you are smiling in the same way that the young man in the pick-up truck did when he saw me awkwardly carrying several bags of groceries and a rather large branch up my street.

I cut smaller branches off the larger branch and put them in some water. I couldn't remember what the tree had looked like last spring, so I had no idea what to expect, and from what I had read online about “forcing” tree branches to blossom, I was prepared for nothing at all to happen. The buds were rather large though, which made me think each might open into a large flower. 

Then they began to slowly open and it became clear that each bud was a collection of small buds. 

All shut tight, each little bud had a shocking pink center, and so I was surprised again when each one opened into a white flower, all trace of pink having disappeared. 

I think I have learned to notice and appreciate nature more living in the city than I ever could living in the country. I enjoy the immersive experience of being in the woods, but I am the kind of person who “loses the trees for the forest.” In the city, each tree, each wildflower in a sidewalk crack, each set of bunny prints in the snow stands out more clearly. A fallen tree branch in the woods is just another fallen tree branch, a fallen tree branch on a city sidewalk on my way to the grocery store is an opportunity for wonder.

Mending as Meditation

A friend of mine gave me this blanket before moving back to New York City. The tag says it was made in India. The colors brighten my room, and the fabric is wonderfully soft. Over the last couple of months I've been noticing holes appearing in the blanket. I think a combination of age and the love of my cat (the lump under the blanket) have started to take their toll.

A few months ago I listened to a Ted Talk by the German monk and scholar David Steindl-Rast. His subject is gratitude, and his message is that it is the grateful people who are happy, not the happy people who are grateful. He encourages us to be truly grateful for even the little blessings of life. Grateful people live out of a sense of abundance, rather than scarcity, he argues.

I am a big fan of Marie Kondo's books on "tidying up." If you haven't heard of them, or if you have only heard negative things about them, Marie Kondo's books are essentially about our relationship with our stuff. In one of the books, she explains that in Japanese culture objects have three spirits: the spirit of the original materials, the spirit of the makers, and the spirit of those who have owned and used the object.

And so I am mending the blanket. Sitting with my needle and thread, I live in a moment of abundance, enjoying and extending the life of this blanket. In mending it, I express my gratitude to the cotton, the people in India who sewed the blanket, and the friend who gave it to me, and I stitch into it my own meditations on the teachings of an old German monk and a young Japanese author.