I’ve been blessed to live in some remarkably beautiful locations. Santa Monica, San Francisco, Santa Barbara… And in each neighborhood (and even the other, not-so-beautiful ones) I’ve found pleasure taking walks searching for local beauty.
One thing I have noticed, no matter the poshness of the location, is the seasonal stink. When gardeners take note of the need for lawns to receive the nutrients found only in animal excrement. This concept has always amused me. Especially when strolling locally down shady, tree lined, blossoming streets with my then 5 year old daughter and her friend. Despite all the visual beauty surrounding us, this little girl remarked, “That is the worst smell of my life!”
While out walking on this clear, gorgeous so-cal day today, that familiar nasty odor wafted by. Suddenly, the irony hit me (right after the stink). Fertilizer Season is a metaphor for life. In other words, shit needs to happen.
Just like that little 5 year old, we all have moments when we can’t see the beauty through the stench. And just like seeds or weeds, without that pain we can’t grow.
I know someone who liked to use the phrase, “life keeps throwing shit at me.” And thats precisely what happened when her septic tank exploded. Do we all need this blatant a reminder about the pain in life we must endure? (Or the way in which we create our own reality.) Hope not! I hope that when the shit happens, we can take in the lesson and then, soon after, let go of the pain.
And then, of course, wash our hands of it.