I had my best meditating session as of date today. It involved a chainsaw and my Grandfather’s biggest mistake ever.
For whatever reason, my Granddad thought it would be a good idea to plant some bamboo along the edge of the woods in his (our) backyard. My Grandma still hasn’t forgiven him. I was a kid then, so over the years we have watched it grow up and spread out. It has reached far back into the woods, crawled out left and waaaay right, and is now popping up shoots all over the back yard.
We don’t really use that part of the yard much, since it borders the woods, but I can imagine what it would look like a ten years if it went un-mowed. My house would have bamboo sprouting up from the floors. My car would be rooted to the ground with it. Bamboo would cover everything, like some kind of end of the world doomsday plant. We would have to fight our way through with chainsaws while being whacked in the face with springing shoots.
Now that we are living on this land, I am in take-back mode. I want those grown up woods full of small trees and weeds and BAMBOO to become part of the yard we use, filled with grass and flowering shrubs and blooming trees. So I did a little research on how to get rid of bamboo.
You CAN’T. Hence the “biggest mistake ever”. The only way to get rid of the stuff is to completely dig up the ground, ala backhoe, and pull out the massive roots that seem to stretch for miles in all directions. We don’t have that kind of money, time, energy, space, desire… so I am chainsawing it down. This feat will take weeks, if not years. I know it will just grow back, but if I can get it chopped down, we can run the mower over it every week and hopefully stop most of those pesky little shoots from taking over my lawn.
(On a side note, here is an article from a woman who would be my nemesis, on why she loves bamboo. Maybe SHE should come over and commune with my mess!)
You might ask why my husband is not tackling the bamboo… that is because he has been assigned to take down the thicker, more dangerous trees that are just wasting space in my future garden of Eden.
I chainsawed for about an hour, whacking and pulling and cutting and clearing, and you really can’t tell I did much. I can, because I know what it looked like before, but I have barely made a dent. Still, I feel peaceful, centered and like I accomplished something.
Though my hands still feel as if they are vibrating, my fingers are permanently curled up from holding the trigger, and my legs are scratched from flying bamboo chunks and “finding” the roses my Grandma had planted before the hostile bamboo take-over, it was good therapy. Though not one of the traditional meditation methods, it worked for me.
Now… where is my stuffed crust pizza and cosmo?