Attack of the weeds

So I walk into my yard. Reluctantly, optimistically, doubtfully. Optimistic for the flowers and vegetables that could be, reluctant – given the weeds that await me, doubtful of how far I will get this year.

I walk bravely into the yard. Studying the overall unkemptness, I sigh big, tragic sighs. Think small, I tell myself. Obediently, I focus my attention on two vegetable beds. I decide to tackle the weeds and prep the soil.

I start plucking away at the weeds. Have I mentioned the therapeutic effects of weeding? Sometimes I wish I could pluck out all the problems in my life, the same way. Sometimes I imagine I am plucking away the problems in my life. Pluck…pluck…pluck…

(Now, if any of you are convinced of this therapy, I will tell you where I live, there will be plenty of therapy and meditation for you to practice. Hmm… Tom Sawyer and whitewash wall, come to mind, anyone?). Hmm… moving on…

My gloved hand reaches into a clump of weeds – to seize their last breath, to deliver the cruel kiss of death… when suddenly I am under attack! The weeds fight back!

They blast countless, minuscule green things all over me. Aphids – I think in dismay. There will be no planting this year, more dismay (some relief?). Willing and rather quick to give up, I pick the few weeds I have disturbed. Nothing springs up. I don’t see any aphids. Now most gardeners would know stuff like this, but since I’m only a phony, I am curious and peer down to see teeny tiny, green, wound up thingies (I know, I know - very eloquent and educated descriptions).

I poke another set – and right there, I’m under attack again! I sputter as tiny green things fly all over my face. What!! I’m being attacked by the weeds? Just how low am I on the food chain and how did I get here?

Determined to get to the root of this (bad pun and everything), and attempting to maintain my dignity before the weeds, I poke at the same weed (already disturbed). Nothing flies out. Ah… it’s their defense mechanism. I find a long, tall rake to outsmart them. I poke around and let things fly out wildly.

Later, as I bend down and yank away, I mentally murmur an apology for circumventing their beautiful nature-designed defense mechanism. I can’t but admire nature who equips even these frail weeds with means to defend themselves.

Defense mechanisms may be a thing of beauty. Well literally… as my mind wanders to years ago, to a balmy night in a bioluminescent bay. A guide takes our small group on a midnight kayak tour into the bay, on a near new moon night. I wonder what I have got us into (of course, this would have to have been my idea), as my muddy legs wade through the dark, marshy bog as we drag our kayaks into the bay. But the moment we climb in and oar away, all doubts dissolve into the bioluminescence.

The water around the kayak lights up, the water at the end of the oar lights up. My hand draws a line through the water. A line of light forms where my fingers have been. I revel in the disbelief of it all.  

We reach the middle of the bay, tie the kayaks together and swim in the balmy waters. We swim in speechless awe. We swim as light forms all around us, circular halos floating in the dark waters.

The marvel of the moments is from an extremely high concentration of algae in the bay. Their defense mechanism is to emit light when disturbed. Even if the light we generated by our movements in water seemed like poetry to us, it was disturbance to them.

I remember noticing the irony. I remember thanking the algae for allowing us to scare them, for allowing us to experience immense beauty in their fear, in their defense mechanism.

Till I get stung by jelly fish. Talk about defense mechanism. Only two individuals in the group get stung. And of course, one has to be – yours truly. Even if I retreat meekly to my kayak, even if my hand hurts like crazy, I remain in awe of nature, of interactions between species, of inner-programming of self-defense, of attempts to ward off the stronger species.  

What about us humans? We too have our defense mechanisms. Each of us develops uniquely our own set above and beyond what we innately possess. At times, they may be useful, at times, I suspect may come in the way of our happiness. And a few people may already know how to circumvent them with the long, tall rake they may use for us.

I suppose they are there for a reason, and we develop them for a reason, for self-protection, for guarding. But a mechanism, a learned response, may be hard to unwind from, even when we don’t need it. What are our defense mechanisms? How many of those do we need? Can we let them rest, knowing they will spring up when we really truly need them.
Can we let our guards down, knowing they will be there if and when we need them?

And perhaps there is beauty and vulnerability in these defense mechanism, just like the algae in the bioluminescent bay. And maybe it's okay to hold them in compassion and see its luminescent wonder, even if it stems from fear.