Lessons From The Land

As well as a gardener and land steward, I am also a dedicated yoga practitioner and teacher. I find these two strands of my life very complementary. The yoga we do on our mats is simply practice for applying the same level of conscious awareness to life off the mat. The time I spend in the garden and on the land, tending trees and plants or out walking the dogs, allows me plenty of time to practice what I learn during my more structured daily yoga practice. And, off the mat, it feels like the real fruits of yoga unfold within me. Life is the practice, life is an endless, unfolding meditation.

Yoga is, amongst others things, an experiential science of the mind. Through various different structured practices we gradually learn to observe the mind and, eventually, begin to master its monkey-madness. One of the ancient definitions we have of yoga (which comes from Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras) is ‘yoga-citta-vrtti-nirhoda’ in Sanskrit, which means ‘Yoga is the stilling of the fluctuations of the mind’.

This year I’ve been committed to a daily meditation practice and, as a result, have become very aware of the madness of my incessant mind, as it flips from one random topic to another, or fixates obsessively on a particular topic, returning there time and time again, no matter how many times it works out a resolution. I notice it is almost entirely based in the future, fantasising about and practising my part in future imagined conversations and scenarios, or strategising my best use of time and energy at all scales of existence, from daily chores to life missions. It’s also very invested in other people’s business, and full of judgements. Wow, it’s often pretty exhausting to be with my mind!

Eventually during meditation, if I give myself enough time, I can gradually sink beneath the surface madness of my ineffectual mind, full of its survival strategies, and enter present-moment awareness. I become aware of shifting sensations in my body, shifting colours and patterns at my third eye and, eventually, images and memories might begin to appear from my unconscious mind and I might even find I have some realisation or emotional or energetic release as I become present to some blocked energy within me that wishes to move.

Off the mat, I am continuing this practice of watching my mind and am finding that nature seems to currently provides the best tool to return to the present moment. Every time I catch myself drifting into the mind-madness (like, ALL the time!), I simply become aware of all the sensory delights of the natural world around me and this pulls me back to the present. Birdsong, the myriad greens of springtime, the erotic scent of Cystus rock-rose, the sound of the wind in the trees, the feel of sun on my skin. Just one natural delight can be enough to draw me back to what is there for me to sense in this moment. And I realise that, when we are in nature, there is SO MUCH there for us, at any given moment, especially during the juicy vibrancy of spring-time. There are so many different things to focus on, to bring me back to present moment appreciation and awareness. So, as many times as I need to, I just keep coming back to nature.

This has been my mantra this week – ‘Be present, there is so much here.’ It’s a never-ending repeat loop of drawing myself away from the catastrophising of my mind, and back into the perfection of the present. But, gradually, I am beginning to yield the fruits. It is helping me to cultivate a deeper sense of wonder and gratitude at just how many sensory delights and abundance of beauty and creativity exist for us in every given moment. Transient and very welcome feelings of joy and peaceful humility can also wash through me when I’m grounded in present-moment awareness, and life seems suddenly very simple and blessed. It makes me laugh quite how many times I have to pull myself back to the present from the tortured pathways of my mind, but I know that, like with everything, it will become easier and more natural with continued practice.