Tugging on Taproots
The pain or annoyance would only be unbearable when the sweat went in my eyes, or dangled back and forth on my nose like the last drop of water hanging from a faucet. With that kind of summer heat -- the same scenario would play itself out frequently -- I would have to go in and change my hat or towel or both. The weeds had gotten so bad that our once beautifully spacious and winding driveway was starting to resemble the beginning stages of what the world would look like without human maintenance or intervention. Dramatic steps were needed immediately, or so my wife thought, and in the name of keeping domestic harmony, I was left with no choice but to agree.
Out in the heat and on my instantly throbbing knees, I noticed quickly that not all weeds, regardless of size, are alike. The smaller dandelions were simple, it would take a little coaxing, but the taproots wouldn’t snap off too easily, as long as I didn’t rush it. Then there were some spider web looking weeds that had adorable little flowers, but surprisingly stingy roots. They were so well anchored that it was almost a given that the plant would pop off of the root bed like a lizard’s tail and grow again. At times I would end up tugging on the littlest nub of a root just hoping that it would begin to give way. On a few occasions some of them were so well-established that I had to admit defeat, and just be happy to have the tops gone for now, knowing they would soon be back.
We all pick up our share of broken bones, bites and bruises in this life, and how we manage them is one of the most important factors in dictating the quality of our time here. As I began to look inward, the uncanny similarities between weeding my old driveway, and tending to my emotional self became increasingly apparent. The majority of the issues from my past are smallish, like the dandelions, and could be dealt with relatively easily, and without much anxiety or consideration. There were several wounds, however, that had much deeper roots than I anticipated, and it was a much more nuanced process that took more time and care to handle. If at any moment there was a lapse in judgement, or I got impatient with the process of my healing, the taproot could break off, and I would go back to being unable to see where my trauma was still buried. Then there were those emotional weeds that were so strongly rooted in my psyche that I did not think getting rid of them was even an option. So I did what I could to chop down the most noticeable parts, and hid them from myself and others for as long as I could. The issue with this of course is that the problem plant continues to grow beneath the surface and only gets tougher to get rid of later.
Thankfully, there is a miraculous difference between the two scenarios. Nothing removes and prevents weeds like Love handles our pains and problems. Trying to rid ourselves of trauma without putting Love first will never bring peace. It only guarantees the miserable process will continue to worsen just below the surface, like that insidious taproot, and continue to rob us of our joy. We can call on Love by a proper noun that we prefer, or just appeal to it as the All That Is. It does not matter what name we give it with our lips, but how we regard it in our hearts, and that we let Love show us how best to become whole.