detritus
I had a job at Calloway’s Nursery, a small business with locations in DFW and Houston. It was a great job. Reminded me of that scene in Office Space when the main character is describing his new construction job. “This ain’t so bad. Workin’ outside. Gettin’ exercise. Makin’ bucks.” I loved it, which surprised me. I grudgingly mow the yard, and my track record with plants is poor at best. However, I found myself going to work with gusto. It was a pleasure to be outside, and besides general grunt work my main job was to walk around and talk to people. It was basically a 9-10 hour walk through a compartmentalized botanical garden where you are required to walk up to strangers and ask if you can help them find anything. That last bit was especially fun because I didn’t know squat about plants. Fortunately for me the vast majority of customers at Calloway’s were either easy-going gardeners or elderly folks who knew more than everyone in the building. I learned most of what I said to make myself sound like an expert botanist from that second group.
Most of my shifts involved closing up shop, and the most important chore on that list was sweeping. Calloway’s is the Cadillac of nurseries, and it is very important that the joint maintains a neat and tidy appearance. When you consider 98% of the products are packaged in a pot of dirt or are, in fact, dirt, you can see how keeping the floors swept was a daily battle. My high school age co-workers were not fond of this drudgery, and I didn’t blame them. When I was their age, I felt the same. At my current age I took it on as an opportunity to participate in the Zen art of active meditation. Sweeping became my favorite bit of the gig. After hours of hustling around and navigating the organized chaos (which had its own charms), sweeping was relatively silent and solitary. Rhythmically sweeping my way through the aisles of beautiful plants, concentrating on the task at hand, focusing on being present. It was serene.
I had this job in early spring, and the setting sun became synonymous with the 7 P.M. closing time. My daily sweeping ritual became bathed in that precious Golden Hour sun light coveted by photographers and cinematographers. One day I noticed something that stopped me in my tracks. The detritus I had gathered with my broom into a dust-pan-ready pile, the forgotten remnants of the movement of inventory, the fallen petals and bits of dead vegetation, all of it worthless and destined for the trash bin, was…beautiful. I took out my phone and snapped a few shots, then swept the pile into the dustpan and dumped it in the trash. It was a fleeting moment (aren’t they all?), but it had a big impact, which if I understand it, is an important part of Buddhist philosophy. Stop looking for and/or wishing for something special to happen. Don’t regret opportunities missed. Focus on the present and discover all the amazing and often overlooked things happening right now. It reminded me of a line from the documentary Kedi, a film about the stray cats of Istanbul and the people who care for them. I don’t remember the full context of the interview, but I remember reading the subtitle “Everything is beautiful when looked at with love,” and the shot accompanying that quote was of a filthy, haggard-looking cat squinting in a thin beam of sunlight, sitting in front of an anonymous urban wall that, while grimy, was painted a vivid blue.
The moment, and the photo, also made me reflect on the transience of existence. My workday was a dizzying parade of the textures and colors of the natural world, a display of the cultivation of hundreds of horticulturists and botanists, the culmination of the hard work and diligence of the company I worked for and my coworkers, and a reminder that people are willing to spend their money, effort, and time to add that natural beauty to their lives simply for the happiness that it brings. And yet, despite all that significance, effort, and joy, all of it fades and disintegrates, is swept up, and thrown away.
The trick is not to despair, but accept nothing lasts, and recognize and embrace all that significance, effort, and joy as it happens.
In the present moment.
