Like a Prayer

7 Comments

I had a bad night of sleeplessness and pain. Too much anxiety. Too much worry about things I can’t control. Trying to predict what comes next, because my go-to is vigilance, as if that has ever kept me safe. Spoiler: it just keeps me in a state of sympathetic dominance (RE: stressed out).

Eventually, I stopped my mind and told myself that I’m just gonna do what I can do. Have an effect where and when I am able. Nothing more or less.

I will plant my seeds and grow my garden. I will meditate and do my best to keep my health level. I will REST. I will nurture myself as best I can; in the ways I know how. In the ways I am still learning.

I will stop scrolling for updates. I will stop making space for panicked voices and those who capitalize on our collective fear.

I will keep in touch with loved ones and cultivate togetherness.

I will make art everyday. It doesn’t have to be “good”. It’s all in the doing. I will use my hands and stay connected to my body.

Hold a needle and make a stitch. And another. And another. Draw a line. Make a mark. Touch the soil. Touch the plants. Touch the earth. Face the sun.

I will keep doing my best to offer what I can to the world. I will be mindful of my boundaries and listen for when my body is asking for limits.

I will not sink into despair.

I will place one foot in front of the other, slowly, carefully. Like a prayer.

Gayla Trail
Gayla is a writer, photographer, and former graphic designer with a background in the Fine Arts, cultural criticism, and ecology. She is the author, photographer, and designer of best-selling books on gardening, cooking, and preserving.

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7 thoughts on “Like a Prayer”

  1. It sure makes gardening feel more important. And the stupid internet–for all the problems, I am so grateful we can all Connect.
    I’m looking at it like grief. What helped me when my world crashed down was the realization that I would have it forever, so I did not have to feel it all at once, which is unbearable, nor did I have to feel it every day. I can segment this because I am lucky enough to have food, shelter, resources–but I cannot control the safety of those over 70 that mean the most to me. All I can do is be, and keep planting seeds in the hopes it will make a difference. I always felt like our generation was so spoiled, well here is our test. I’ll think of my grandmother living in an orphanage till age 18, my grandfather selling apples during the depression. I hope we have it in us.

  3. Gayla, your words made me cry- happy, inspired, alive tears as always! Thank you for sharing.
    “To plant a garden is to believe in tomorrow” -Audrey Hepburn
    Let’s all keep believing!

  4. Thank you so much for this. As I was in the middle of an anxiety spiral at 4 am, my intuition said to me, ”Get out your copy of ‘You Grow Girl.’ Grow something.”So that’s what I’m doing. Growing and making. These are things I can do.

  5. Like a prayer from my own heart. Thanks for putting into words a feeling I didn’t know was in me. I’ll carry that last line with me.

  6. Thanks for this! In this very unusual time in our lives, we all need to look forward to something that we really love to do while we are quarantined, instead of fretting over what we cannot control. Except that we can control what we do during this time, like staying hunkered down in our homes and not socializing! I can’t find enough time right now, to research and plot out what I am going to do in my new yard this spring! It is like a blank slate and I can’t wait to turn it into our country garden where we can enjoy ourselves for hours if we need to! It is definitely helping me pass this time away fast! And I will be so prepared once spring actually comes here in Anchorage!

  7. Hi Gayla,
    Getting ready for planting some seeds in the midst of this craziness. I wanted to share your recipe for seed starting mix with my sister-in-law and 8 yo nephew. Being too lazy to go downstairs to get your book, I popped onto your website instead. I’m so glad I was too lazy because now I’m here on your beautiful life-affirming/inspiring site! Remembering that spring will come.

    I came across this lovely poem earlier this morning and having read your post, thought you might like it, as well.

    Today, When I Could Do Nothing

    Today, when I could do nothing,
    I saved an ant.

    It must have come in with the morning paper,
    still being delivered
    to those who shelter in place.

    A morning paper is still an essential service.

    I am not an essential service.

    I have coffee and books,
    time,
    a garden,
    silence enough to fill cisterns.

    It must have first walked
    the morning paper, as if loosened ink
    taking the shape of an ant.

    Then across the laptop computer — warm —
    then onto the back of a cushion.

    Small black ant, alone,
    crossing a navy cushion,
    moving steadily because that is what it could do.

    Set outside in the sun,
    it could not have found again its nest.
    What then did I save?

    It did not move as if it was frightened,
    even while walking my hand,
    which moved it through swiftness and air.

    Ant, alone, without companions,
    whose ant-heart I could not fathom—
    how is your life, I wanted to ask.

    I lifted it, took it outside.

    This first day when I could do nothing,
    contribute nothing
    beyond staying distant from my own kind,
    I did this.

    – Jane Hirshfield

    We have never met, but I have two of your books and you are my gardening go-to gal! Be well.
    Namaste,
    Kelly

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