Happiness is a shovel, a wheelbarrow, and a big pile of mulch. For context, one needs to understand that gardeners are in a never-ending struggle against weeds. They grow in garden beds. They grow on garden paths. And they grow in places where I think nothing can grow at all!
Some of them, such as crabgrass and purslane, spread quickly, out competing and stealing nutrients from my flowers and vegetables. Others, like poison ivy and poison sumac, can cause great discomfort to an unsuspecting victim. Ask me how I know.
Weeds are relentless in their pursuit of space, and the battle to remove them is never-ending.
At this point, I’d like to regale you with tales about how I am a meticulous gardener, pulling every weed the moment it peeks its head above the soil. I’d like to show you pictures of my perfectly manicured garden, where every plant is perfectly pruned and beds are perfectly tidy. I’d like to tell you and show you these things, but I cannot. Because I would be lying.
The truth is that some of my garden paths are more unruly than I would like. The truth is that there are days when I notice weeds sprouting in one of my beds and instead of rushing to yank them out by the roots, I look away. That’s because after a day of caring for animals and repairing fences, I just don’t have it in me to go digging around in the dirt.
On those days, I water the vegetables. I water the flowers. And I water the weeds.
It’s also on those days that I decide it’s time to buy more mulch. Generally, I use ground-up wood chips that I purchase from a local landscaper. By laying a layer of mulch around my plants and in the paths between my beds, I am able to smother the bulk of the weeds.
The ones that are especially voracious, pushing their way up through the mulch, are few enough in number that I can pull them by hand. To be sure, it requires a lot of labor to take the mulch, shovel it into the wheelbarrow, and push the wheelbarrow around the property to spread the mulch. But it’s a labor of love. Because the hard work of spreading mulch saves me from the much harder work of pulling every weed and the horror of having an overgrown garden.
So, in my life as a homesteader, happiness is a shovel, a wheelbarrow, and a pile of mulch. In my life as a Buddhist, happiness is my altar, my mala, and my meditation cushion. Because weeds don’t just exist in the garden, they exist in our minds as well.
And while it would be wonderful if I were a perfectly enlightened buddha who always knew the exact mantra or scripture to recite when unclean thoughts entered my mind, that is not the case. The truth is that I fail in my practice every day. I become angry. I feel sloth. There are times when my selfishness overcomes my love for other beings. I try to pull these weeds out by hand. I prostrate myself in front of my altar. I chant sutras, counting each recitation with my mala beads. And I sit on my cushion in meditation.
Oftentimes, this is enough. And while the weeds of defiled thoughts are never fully gone, they reside enough that I feel like myself again. However, there are days when my self-power practices don’t quite do the job.
On those days, I must rely on the other-power of Amida Buddha. I come to him humbly and quietly—a foolish being full of passion. And I chant the holy name.
Namu Amida Butsu
By admitting my failings and stepping out on faith, I’m able to drain all of the energy from my greed, anger, and ignorance. They simply are not important in the face of something so much bigger than myself.
By gathering up the “mulch” of my Buddhist practice and laying it down over the weeds of my greed, anger, and ignorance, I am able to take the unruly garden of my mind and bring it back under control—at least for a short time.
And just like tending a real garden, the more I do it, the more conscientious I am in my efforts, the easier it becomes. The weeds become less noticeable and there is more space between the unclean thoughts.
It is in that space that I am able to find the Buddha within me—the seed of enlightenment that all sentient beings possess. It is golden and it is pure, and I am grateful to the Buddhadharma for helping me find it over and over again.
Namu Amida Butsu
Related features from BDG
Humility, Faith, and Other-Power: Shinran’s “Tannisho”
Mindfulness and Amida Buddha
A Humanitarian Action for Other Living Beings: Creating Space for Urban Biodiversity through Buddhist Gardening
Other-Power in Pure Land Buddhism
Spiritual Crossroads (Part II): The Movement of Amida-shu in the West
