Cultivating Consciousness
A few weeks ago, my husband and I were studying the book of Mark and were reminded of the parable Jesus tells of “The Sower” or “The Scattered Seed”. Fast forward a day or so, and I’m out in my yard piddling around. Maybe I had the ant killer. Maybe I was weed eating. I can’t remember. But the parable drifted into my consciousness like a welcoming awakening.
Our house and 3+ acres are built on black land clay. The stuff is annoying, and gross at times. It’s sticky and thick when it’s wet, full of craw dads and mounds that sometimes come up past my ankles. On the contrary, it’s coarse and full of HUGE cracks when it’s dry. I mean cracks big enough to lose your car keys in. We didn’t know anything about this type of soil when we bought it, or the transaction might not have ever happened. It’s caused enormous flooding problems, and huge financial investments just to maintain it and keep our home from rendering any damage. The first year we lived here I was so discouraged with what we’d gotten ourselves into that I mowed down almost everything. I never gave it a chance to even show me what it could do throughout the changing seasons. After my first lawnmower went kaput, I was forced to scale back a bit and only mow about a 1/3 of what I had previously been doing the year before. I’ll be damned if this same land that turns out crayfish and Grand Canyon size craters, doesn’t produce some of the most beautiful primrose and dandelion flowers come spring. They open up before us every morning and welcome the day. It’s downright magical. Pale pink fades into a rosy bright blush and stands next to lemony yellows and lovely white florets on slender stems. It blankets our entire front and back yard, and down into the pasture that extends beyond my view.
In His parable, Yeshua describes several different types of soil in which seeds are thrown, and because of the external circumstances the seeds either thrive or they don’t. My entire life I’ve always thought of this parable from the point of view of the seed. It’s my responsibility to sprout and bloom where I’m at. No matter the soils conditions. You know the cliche saying, “Bloom where you’re planted.” That day in my yard, I began to see that parable from a different perspective. A 3-part responsibility began to emerge from this story. You have the thrower of the seed. You have the seed itself. You have the type of soil in which it was thrown. As I was walking around our seemingly rough and rugged terrain that day, thinking about what beauty has come from it since we’ve been here, I began to think that maybe Jesus had more to that parable than just the seed. It’s a combination of things that require the cultivation of a “mind”. And maybe I am all these things along my faith journey at one point or another.
When I am very young in my faith, I am just learning how to dig and water and sow my own oats. I am so thirsty for living water that I may not take notice of what the soil is like beneath me, and stumble onto rocky ground where the dirt is shallow and the water comes in at such a flood, I can scarcely soak it in. Or I stay too close to a comfortable path, that a bird or worrisome thought can carry me away with no roots to keep me grounded. Or, God forbid, I fall amongst thorns or vagabonds, that choke and squelch my desire to grow, and I bear no fruit. Perhaps, if I’m lucky enough, I'll fall on good soil, find good friends and family to help me grow at my own pace, in my own time, and be patient with me until my springtime arrives.
As I further in my faith, I can choose to be the soil in His parable. I can choose to take the seeds He seeks to plant in me and absorb them into my consciousness. I can be hard and rocky, and let the seeds fall between the cracks, never let them take root, and wither and die. I can choose to grow weeds instead of the seeds presented before me. Let what I already have crowd any space for new life and learning. I can say, no thank you, to the new growth, think I already know it all, and choke out any advancement for new thoughts, new perspectives, or new ways of thinking. No fresh foliage necessary, thank you very much! Perhaps, if I’m open minded enough, I’ll be soft soil. Welcome a restored cultivation! Produce a harvest beyond my wildest dreams! Be enlightened unto things I would have never dared let grow before!
Then I mature even more, and I realize I can also be the Sower of the seed into the soil. How lofty of me to think I can just fall where I may as a baby seed and bloom where I’m planted under any circumstance. It’s a lovely thought, yet not super sustainable. Some soil can be difficult and stubborn to work with, or it can be pliable and soft, and work with the seeds instead of against them. At the end of the day, all types of earth and plants need a cultivator if they are to change and grow in a productive way. You may say, well, God is the cultivator in Yeshua’s parable, and that is all fine and good. But I wonder, has He not already given us what we need to cultivate our own hearts and minds? He’s laid out my tools, he’s given me the seeds, he’s presented me with choices to be dry and barren or lush and soft. It is my responsibility to dig out any bitter roots, no matter how hard my heart may be. I am the cultivator, I have the seeds, I am the soil. He’s created it all in me, and what shows up outside for others to see, should reflect the tending I’ve been doing on the inside.
That day I was out working our land, and this story floated back to the top of my brain, I looked around and began to wonder if maybe Jesus meant we must be all these things in our own faith journey. I can’t rely on someone to always throw me seeds. Sometimes I have to go looking for them. I can’t expect the soil of my heart to always be fresh. I must fertilize it, turn it, shake it up from time to time. I must be the Sower of my own soil. The farmer doesn’t wait for someone else to come along when he or she sees weeds start to sprout. They snuff them out immediately! When fire ants begin to overtake an area, the Sower doesn’t allow them to infiltrate completely. He or she stops the trespassing of the pests and gets things under control. On the other hand, when an area is thriving, it’s the inclination of the farmer to let it take off and do its thing, knowing the beauty of the plant will be worth the wait. The way a farmer knows its land, I must know myself in this way. I should know my own heart, mind, and soul with this same divine connection.
I took note of all the things my husband and I have done since we moved here with this black sticky clay. There are areas where we’ve brought in more dirt and laid sod to combat the flooding. There’s an entire section where we had rock brought in to fill the cracks, help with drainage, and provide our family and friends with a place to park so they won’t walk in the mud when they come visit. We’ve planted trees to provide a border from strangers, critters, and unwanted threats. We’ve scattered grass seeds and hoped for the best. In some areas, we’ve let the land show it’s natural beauty and decided to leave it alone all together and allow it to speak to us. It’s changed so much in the short time we’ve been here, I can’t imagine what it will be like in another 30 years with us tending it and shaping it and being open to what it gives us.
A re-thinking of this old parable had me re-thinking this land and re-thinking my perspective on it all. I am all these things in His parable. He has given me the authority to change and re-shape my heart and mind as many times as I need to in order to find the divine beauty He has already bestowed. I may be many different types of seeds in my faith journey. Sometimes even a seed who has refused to open. I may be many types of soil on my faith journey. Perhaps muddy and wet or dry and cracked at times. But ultimately, I am the Sower. I must never cease to cultivate my consciousness until the day He calls me to eternal bliss. Meditating on what might await me, encourages me to be more diligent at keeping the gardens of my heart and mind pure for the eternity that I’ll call home. I certainly don’t want to find I’ve come to the end of my life here on Earth with a desert to roam forever. No, I aim to create a garden where I can rest and find peace and enjoy the harvests of the labor, He has had me work in my life. A cool river, a shade tree, fruits and flowers are what I long for. I am the seed. I am the soil. I am the Sower. And Yahweh is the consciousness of my story.
Mark Chapter 4:1-34
