Alexander Westmacott
www.philosophersallotment.com
Dusk is a special time at the allotment, and yesterday as silver blended with charcoal the stream presented itself also in a new light – trickling out of the past to treat our industrial sores with something enduring, like a re-discovered children’s story.
In Plato’s dialogue Theaetetus, Socrates compares the mind to ‘an aviary of all kinds of birds; some in flocks separate from the others, some in small groups, and others flying singly here and there among all the rest’ (197, d). It is a compelling analogy – and no doubt many of us can relate to this sense of internal cacophony. But for me the allotment offers a better one. We have our share of birds of course, and it is always so charming when the robins come to visit, seeking out a morsel from the disturbed soil. The plants, though, are surely more akin to thoughts. Some grow just as we expect, just what we have sown, just where we wanted them.
“And now I saw that, although I had been in a great degree preserved from the common immoralities… I found there were many plants growing in me which were not of the Heavenly Father’s planting, and that all these, of whatever sort or kind they were or how specious soever they might appear, must be plucked up.“
—Thomas Ellwood (1639-1713)
Quaker Faith & Practice, 19.15
But these often feel like the minority. More common, it seems, are the weeds, sprouting up here and there, intruding upon us, crowding out their more nutritious neighbours.
The art of the allotmenteer is akin to the art of reflection – both are practices of cultivation. Just as the fruits on the allotment require care and attention, so our thoughts do likewise. As we meditate, we allow our eye to wander across the soil of the mind. We notice the connections, and recognise the interwoven web of living thoughts, sprouting up here and there. We consider slowly, and make choices – which to keep and give our energy to, and which to weed out with care and compassion.
And, in stillness, we may often notice an underlying source, flowing into our minds and treating them, teaching us about that which does endure, which does nourish, and which is ever-present beneath and within the flurry of daily life.
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Forty-Three Newsletter • Number 502 • February 2021
Oxford Friends Meeting
43 St Giles, Oxford OX1 3LW