opposing forces

When you have only two pennies left in the world, buy a loaf of bread with one and a lily with the other. - Chinese proverb

This proverb interested me because its simplicity produces complexities. Even as I reflect on it, I am most inclined to challenge the thought. Actually, I would buy as much flour as I could with one penny and then borrow the rest of the ingredients from friends, bake a couple loaves and have a party. As for the penny reserved for the lily? I'd rather buy a few seeds and plant them in a public space. Thrift. Sharing. Growth. These are things I celebrate.

However, the reason I liked this proverb in the first place is because it speaks to one area of tension in which I sit, sometimes wobbling to the one side or the other. I would buy the loaf of bread to be practical, to take care of physical need, to be thoughtful about the future. This is the part of me that wants to save money, to divvy up my time everyday, to stick to to-do lists, to budget each month, to be frugal and a good steward, to clean out the refrigerator before food goes to waste, to weigh the costs, to wear supportive shoes and bulky sweaters, to compost, to plan and organize and arrange and fit. It's the part of me that knits useful scarves, bakes grainy breads, and finds efficient ways of doing things. It is the part of me that, unchecked, causes me to drop off groceries instead of visiting with refugees or walk somewhere really fast instead of taking time to enjoy the outdoors. But this is not all of me.

The other part of me celebrates beauty, enjoys the lilies in creation and seek the things that have little to do with survival, practicality, or frugality--the things that don't compute or yield returns or demonstrate good use of time and/or money. This is the part of me that, after carefully budgeting for the month, gives into generous impulses and buys a new pair of shoes for a friend in need. It's the part of me that graciously receives hand-woven pieces of clothing from Burmese sisters who want to generously give to me, despite my tendencies to resist taking and to actively deaccumulate. It's the part of me that makes jewelry and writes poems, scatters flower seeds on Derry St, wears international scarves, puts up Christmas lights in the winter, doesn't think as intentionally about having "reasons" for the things I do. This is my less productive side, the side that lets me sleep in from time to time, have slow mornings and unplanned afternoons, loves daily interruptions, is more Spirit-led and capable of wonder. This side of me usually takes the back seat when I am busy, as it's easier to meet physical needs--both mine and others--in a timely fashion than to make time to enjoy the meeting of needs--physical, spiritual, emotional, relational. But humans do not live on bread alone--we need beauty and growth and relationship and creative work to give meaning and depth to the things we do in our days. And so, valuing both the loaf and the lily, I sit in this tension.

I think about this specifically as I am starting my garden. The raised beds are up, filled, and ready to be used. The six child-neighbors on both sides (1, 2, 3, 5, 7, 13) are eager to interact with the dirt and help with the seedlings and till the land. So many great helpers this summer! And as I try to keep track of tools and--Please, don't eat the dirt--and Does your mother know you're here right now?--and The zucchini seeds are not for eating, just for planting--and Yes, my hands are dirty...with dirt--I am learning that these little neighbors are going to be my teachers. My little patch of dirt is not some mathematical equation that I can control. There are going to be accidents and the plants may not be hardy enough for all the frisby games. I am not concerned with how many things the garden produces this summer so much as I am concerned that we grow something--anything--that will give us something we didn't have before. Maybe tomatoes, maybe new dreams. I won't create a cost-benefit analysis; I hope to create a space for us to grow vegetables and flowers and friendships--beauty trumps utility in my yard. Or at least beauty is as important as utility.

And so, I'll bake bread and grow lilies (zinnias, actually), ask questions and live answers, and embrace the opposing forces within.