“survival lies in sanity, and sanity lies in paying attention…” (julia cameron – the artist’s way)

here’s the thing i have discovered about mint: it is a survivor.

we bought the scrawniest mint plants – looking like they were fading away even as we paid our $2 for them. we brought them home and planted them in some good soil in an old barnwood planter that is somewhat self-destructing. we put the planter on the seat part of an old kitchen chair in the corner of our tiny potting stand garden, knowing that the sun would reach these tiny hopefuls and that these container gardens would have my rapt attention. and then we basically backed up and let nature do its thing.

and, despite some seriously hot weather, some seriously wet weather, some serious challenges from neighboring vines wishing to choke off access to nutrients, the mint has prevailed. it just keeps keeping on and the planters are burgeoning with mounds of luscious green mint.

i had heard – from people who know their stuff – that it would be important to keep mint in a planter rather than planting it in the ground. they said that mint would take over all else in the garden. i can see where that might be true – it is pervasive and aggressive about growing – resilient and tenacious and not at all timid.

which brings me to what i believe might be a good definition of an artist.

i had to have a crown re-affixed this past week – my utterly superb dentist simply popped the crown back on and aimed a blue light of some magical quality that will make it stay there. while i had my mouth gaping open he asked how we were and what we were up to. without the aid of consonants i said, “artist stuff” and he nodded.

artist stuff.

probably a better answer than “oh, we’re just being mint. you know.”

and yet, it is the job of an artist … to be mint. to be pervasive and aggressive about growing, resilient, tenacious and not at all timid. to keep growing despite all the odds, to keep creating regardless of acidic soil or toxic chance of sunstroke or over-saturation or dehydration. to keep paying attention and asking questions and pushing the boundaries – to simply survive.

I wouldn’t have compared myself (or d) to mint before. I would have preferred being sweet basil or maybe spicy jalapeños or willowy dill. or, better yet, i might like to be a pale pink sarah bernhardt peony or a daisy or a sunflower rising above a verdant farm field. mint seems so….survivalist.

but – even as i mosey through that fantasyland – the one where i am gracefully encompassing a body that is tasked with, well, different tasks – ones that are rewarded in traditional fiscally-rewarding ways – i am grateful to have been burdened with these tasks, the task of mint.

to keep on keeping on. to be as beautiful as the ordinary can be. to cling to living and to encourage others to pay attention to the very littlest things. to dance and laugh and sing raucously and to raindance sanity from the universe-sky to a world that is not sane.

“i believe art is utterly important. it is one of the things that could save us.”(mary oliver)

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

like. subscribe. share. support. comment. – thank you. xoxo