Gardening As Worship.

Yes.

What I Mean Is...

...that there is so much joy in the perfect belonging that happens when you eat, consume, take into yourself something which has been given to you from the earth for nothing, for the price of a little bending and a little scratching in the dirt or even, sometimes, for simply the price of not pulling something up. You interact with something bigger than you, not by dominating it, but by studying and learning and inserting yourself as helpfully as possible into the huge complex web you wish to join; you submit yourself wholly both to the idea that there are things you cannot change ever, and things where you are very powerful and influential. Brute physical force on the other and of a shovel and a little nudging with fingertips combine to produce something that is never, quite, what you envisoned. Sometimes you need to look hard to understand the rewards: perhaps this year's crop is chickweed instead of lettuce, but did you know that chickweed is now sold in farmer's markets and high-end restaurants? Sometimes the rewards are right there, a faceful of lemon balm and a fresh radish still crunchy with dirt and so sweet (did you know fresh radishes are sweet?).

Always, submission and domination entwine you into the bigger thing, the whole, the rest of the world, and there you are: you're a part of something, a belonging, and the bottoms of your feet tingle with roots.