Month: June 2023

Waiting

/ howardshapiro / 11 Comments

I’m waiting for Kohler to call me back. The kitchen faucet spray button has fallen off and I can’t get it re-attached. Neither can the very nice person at Ferguson who looked at it and said, “here is the model number and the name of the faucet. Try calling Kohler and see if they will replace the head.” After several attempts at sending me to their website, the automated voice command told me I had a 12-minute wait. I didn’t take that as a promise. Eventually they offered me one of those call back options when the next available customer service rep was available during normal business hours.

I am optimistic but realistic. So much about life is about waiting. On my good days I can transform my waiting into anticipating. Like right now I am anticipating that this is an exercise in futility. It turns out I am wrong. It turns out I have to take back all the negative thoughts I had about getting a return call. And I have to take back all the predictions that they wouldn’t do anything about my issue. Andrew called me back just now and asked that I send them a picture of the broken piece to their email address. They say they are replacing the head! Ten to twelve business days. I can wait that long.

And then the phone rings again. Well, it doesn’t actually ring. Cell phones sing; cell phones buzz; cell phones chime; they make tonal music. But it doesn’t matter. In an instant the minutia of kitchen faucets became inane. The other side of the line (although there is no line anymore) was in crisis. It jolted me back to how tenuous our existence. How true the Yiddish saying that roughly translates into: We plan; God laughs. How we think we are in control of our lives, and we can expect things to evolve in the order we have programmed – but – we all know – life is unpredictable, and the art of living is managing the unexpected.

That brings us back to waiting. We expect our lives to progress in an even course. My Aunt Molly whose life was filled with sadness would say: Don’t kid yourself- we are all just waiting for the other shoe to drop.  In Jewish tradition we know about that other shoe just as we know about waiting. Some of us wait in-between eating milk and meat. We wait after a loved one has died before resuming our everyday routine. We wait for Yom Kippur to end so we can break our fast. We wait for the Messiah to change the arc of history. We wait for humanity to live up to its potential.

There is an argument about the characteristics of waiting. Do we just wait and anticipate that there will be a Divine intervention, or do we fill our waiting hours with learning moments finding patience and clarity as we hone into a new perspective about ourselves and the quality of life around us. Waiting it turns out is not passive. It gives us room to grow and time to process the unexpected. Waiting gives us opportunity to change paths; to deepen our experience of the now; to be surprised or disappointed; to feel.

I’m getting a new faucet. It’s the little things, you know.

I

A Garden is a Place of Worship

/ howardshapiro / 11 Comments

I am watching my garden grow. It takes a lot of patience. It also takes a lot of care. It has taught me that I’m not so good at waiting; I’m also not so good at getting down on my knees and weeding. I’m pretty good at watering and fertilizing but don’t ask me how many little pellets per square foot – for me it is a good deal of intuition and faith – well really – hope. All the professionals tell me that this year has been tough. The winter had a hard freeze when the temperature hovered around zero and the hydrangeas rebelled. So, it is a slow return to summer’s glory.

I expected a rainbow of colors by now. What I got so far are these yellow Yarrows. (Although to be fair the purple Irises have been both faithful and reliable, but they are unhappily very short lived and I saw a few buds on some blue geraniums.) It is quite a spiritual exercise, this waiting and watering, watching and worrying, weeding and wishing.

I never heard of Marc Hamer till I read a piece in the NYT.  In his latest memoir: “Spring Rain: A Life Lived in Gardens, he writes, “a garden is always a place of worship even if it’s a really crappy one.” If I can extrapolate from his words: Worship is believing that there is a power (or Power) in the universe that promotes growth. Some people believe that power listens to prayer. Some people believe that power invites us to find the oneness that unites the flower and the seed. In Hamer’s reflections, “kneeling in the garden is like bowing to the world that made me.” It is acknowledging – there is a place for us. It is hands and heart united in gratitude.

I believe in my garden, but I have a fair amount of garden jealousy. I pass neatly coiffed landscapes with defined beds and barely a weed to be seen. That’s not mine. At least not yet. But it won’t be that way forever. Eileen just bought me a new weeder that hopefully makes the process palatable. It’s Wirecutter’s favorite and called a Woodcraft Weeding Hoe. (Father’s Day you know and who wears a tie these days anyway.) I tried it out this morning. Here’s the challenge – is that a weed or wildflower?  And what do you do with the mulch you have now dug up.

Never mind, it is good therapy. If I can keep the red ants and chiggers away from me, it is a healthy form of meditation. Never mind, I love how it is never static, always changing, always becoming. I love how the dirt under my fingernails (no matter how thick the gloves) is a prayer to creation and all that is yet to be.