Buckets
Written By Diane Hicks
I have long understood that just like seeds planted in a garden, watered and nurtured, the areas of our lives that we lend focus to will grow and thrive. We may have many garden plots or perhaps only a few. When people talk about living a simple life, they are often talking about having a few main focuses in life, which allow for a routine and taking joy from contentment in those often prolific garden patches.
When I bring to mind the word tranquility, I think of a single lotus blossom unfolding atop its lily pad in the smooth waters of a lake. For many of us the clearing away of clutter renders a sense of peacefulness, with nothing to do or take care of. A lack of clutter and the appearance of a well-cared for space invites relaxation, speaks to us on a deep level. We more clearly see the elements we love, what we have chosen, and that is resonant. This is a way of holding ourselves, cherishing ourselves.
Where is the balance between building our lives and accumulating the “comforts” of life with this type of uncluttered simplicity? For me, it comes back to attention, intention and cultivation. It comes back to the areas where we want to make deposits of time, energy and focus in our lives. I often refer to these as the “buckets” of my life. I am the daughter of a farmer and woodsman. Growing up, there were a lot of buckets. As a six-year old, I carried buckets of milk fresh from the cows in the barn. Occasionally, I carried buckets of grain, or seed or some other thing. In the spring, I filled pails of sap from buckets adorning maple trees through the sugar garden to dump into the tank on the bed of a farm truck. The snow was still as deep as my legs were long in places, but the snow softening under a determined spring sun and the beginnings of leaves budding across the woods held promises that made me feel excited, grateful and alive.
For me, buckets hold promise. Buckets allow me to hold one aspect of life, to carry it. This is living. And so is setting it down, resting, admiring, and appreciating the bounty.
For me, buckets hold promise. Buckets allow me to hold one aspect of life, to carry it. This is living. And so is setting it down, resting, admiring, and appreciating the bounty. There are times in my modern, adult life that I feel like I have been running from bucket to bucket, throwing some of this in one and some of that in another. This is not living, it is existing, just getting by. It makes me think of the adage “robbing Peter to pay Paul”, or the game Whack-a-mole. It’s frenzied. A good friend of mine used to say, “I’m dancing as fast as I can.” To live in this way is to live in overwhelm. This hypervigilance keeps cortisol levels high in the body which impacts health and immunity. Beyond the physical ramifications, there are emotional costs to living this way. When we rarely ‘stop and smell the roses’ of life, we lose sight of our own priorities. Life ends up living us instead of us living our lives. When we take time, even just once a week and pause and ask a simple question, we have the chance to create the shift toward living the life we most want.
So, ask yourself: “Deep in my heart, what do I most want my life to be about?” Then take time to let the answers arise from within you. It may be love, connection, happiness, service, understanding, etc. Whatever comes up, take a moment to consider or journal on what that looks like or means for you. Your buckets will begin to appear. You will begin to see more clearly where you have been putting your energy and where you want to.
The main buckets of my life are my children/family, helping people and bettering the world through my work, writing, caring for my home/creating spaces that feel inviting, relaxing, restorative, and adventuring/engaging in the natural world/learning. What about the other parts of life? The paperwork associated with my work? Taxes and Accounting? Protecting my family or property from threat? Surely, these aren’t buckets, or are they?
There were some days where carrying a bucket of sap almost as tall as I was through deep snow and a slippery slope only to have half of it spill all over me was not love, or excitement or the promise of fancy maple syrup over chocolate chip pancakes. There were some days where it was misery. So, what does that mean? It means that not every bucket is easy to carry even when it falls into the realm of something we love. Sugaring was the chore I loved on the farm, much more than the itch and scratch of working summertime hayfields, weeding gardens while mosquitos feasted on us or barn chores–sorry cows!
Sugaring held the promise of syrup, but more than that it was something my father loved. It wasn’t like the other aspects of dairy farming that were more a means to an end, this was his craft. He took pride in boiling Grade A fancy maple syrup. He sold it far and wide. Restaurants in town offered it up with pancakes and french toast and people came to our house to buy syrup from all over the country. His syrup was so well reputed that restaurants three states away sought him out. This was a place my father got to create. There’s not a lot of money in making syrup, though you’d think so given the price. It takes a lot of work, and the expense of boiling. An oil-fired evaporator creates boils at a more constant temperature than wood-fired. There’s work and expense to it, but also a sense of pride, ability and expertise. I am so proud of my dad for the person he was, for the others he uplifted and I feel fortunate to have been able to share a love for sugaring with him and to see him shine in this arena. It was his passion project.
I have always loved engaging with the land. It is a major part of my life and quite a big bucket of mine to be sure. I dedicate time and energy almost daily to the woods, the lake, the ocean and mountains. In his poem “Lost”, the poet David Wagoner says: “If what a tree or bush does is lost on you, then you are surely lost.” That speaks truth to me. I believe I would be lost if I didn’t notice the world. I remember a time when I was working an incredibly stressful job, while going to graduate school an hour from our home and raising children. Autumn had come, and while the hilltop our town rests on at the edge of the Berkshires is one of the most spectacular vantage points for leaf peeping, I had scarcely noticed the vivid colors I was immersed in.
Another year, at another point, I had likened my life in this place to walking through a postcard every day. It is that beautiful. In fact, I have lived in and traveled to many places and have experienced deep beauty in every one. In the poem “Wild Geese”, Mary Oliver says: “The world offers itself to your imagination.” Both “Lost” and “Wild Geese” speak to our sense of belonging in the world and offer us an invitation to pause, to look, to see the world beyond us and through that referent to notice our own feet on the ground, our own skeleton and the muscles that move our bones, our beating heart and all that makes our heart beat.
This truly is living.
Homework for those who want it…because I love you enough to offer it and because I used to be a teacher and old habits endure.
Pause for a moment, place your hand on your heart, follow your breath and then ask the question: “Deep down, what do I want my life to be about?”
Wait for answers to arise and then listen a bit more. What would that look like in your life?
Sit with or journal these fleshed out picture
Label your buckets
Begin tending your container garden
