Watering the horses

On finding mindfulness in the everyday

The water level in the horse trough was almost at the top so I walked over and turned off the tap. I disconnected the hose from the tap and began to haul the hose in, coiling it as I went. The coils fell haphazardly atop each other. I paused and looked at them, a long ago memory coming to mind: a family holiday in Bali. Years ago. We were staying at a resort by the beach. Our accommodation was surrounded by beautiful tropical gardens and from sunrise to sunset, people worked in those gardens. Pruning, planting, watering, sweeping, raking. Once, as I was walking along a path, one of the gardeners was pulling in a hose, having finished watering a section of the garden. His focus on the task was total. The hose was thick, no doubt heavy. He pulled in an arms-length of it and gently, yes gently, coiled it over the top of the already coiled hose. Each coil lay perfectly; the young man ensured it was so. If one coil slipped, he carfeully repositioned it before continuing. As I walked past he looked at me and smiled. Nodded his head. I pressed my hands together in prayer, nodded my head towards him, smiled back. His smile broadened. The moment passed. I walked on. His focus returned to the hose and its coiling. Total absorption. The most important thing he had to be doing right then. Mindful. Aware.

Contrast to me, racing to coil the hose, already thinking of what comes next - dinner to cook, the rest of the late afternoon chores to be done. The hose coils lying in a mess on the ground.

So I stopped. Paused. Brought to mind that Balinese gardener. Took a deep breath and let it go. Looked up at the trees, across the paddock to the horses. Breathed in. Breathed out. And began again, coiling the hose more carefully, being aware of what I was doing. Standing there, surrounded by beauty, coiling a hose because I had just filled the horses’ water. As I did the task with more awareness, the coils fell more neatly together. Not perfectly, but neater. 

I am reminded of the mindfulness teachings of the Vietnamese Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh. There is a chapter in Hanh’s book Peace is Every Step about washing dishes:

“To my mind, the idea that doing dishes is unpleasant can occur only when you aren’t doing them. Once you are standing in front of the sink with your sleeves rolled up and your hands in the warm water, it is really quite pleasant. I enjoy taking my time with each dish, being fully aware of the dish, the water, and each movement of my hands. I know that if I hurry in order to eat dessert sooner, the time of washing dishes will be unpleasant and not worth living. That would be a pity, for each minute, each second of life is a miracle. The dishes themselves and the fact that I am here washing them are miracles!” (Thich Nhat Hanh, Peace is Every Step, the path of mindfulness in everyday life, Random House Books, 1991. p26.)

I’m not quite there with always loving doing the dishes but I get the point. The hose coiling is perhaps an easier place to practice mindfulness.

It would be easier of course if there was a tap right beside the horses’ trough. Easier still if there was a float valve attached to that tap and the trough automatically filled when the horses’ drank from it. I could arrange that. Maybe one day I will, but for now, filling the trough involves connecting the hose, turning on the pump by the dam, turning on the tap, and waiting while it fills. Of course I could leave the hose out where I need it, but then it would be across the driveway and would get run over and eventually split. So for now, this is how I do it. I don’t mind. It’s not exactly an arduous task. Nor unpleasant. It’s only tedious if I am rushing, racing to get to the next thing, thinking the next thing is more important. It’s only tedious if I think filling the trough and putting the hose away are unimportant and are getting in the way of doing something else. If I remember the Balinese gardener and the words of Thich Nhat Than, if I stop my thoughts from racing and realise that coiling the hose is what I am doing and focus on that, it’s not an unpleasant task at all. It is simply a task. Something I do to care for my horses. A part of daily life. A part of life.

See you outside,

Jill

Inside

I have a few book events coming up, so if you are able to get along, come and say hello.

Firstly, two events in Perth later this month: I’ll be at the City of Melville library on Wednesday 21 February and the City of Cockburn library on Thursday 22 February.

After that, I’ll be in conversation with Barry Green from Western Tourist Radio in the Future Farming Tent at the Donnybrook Apple Festival on Easter Saturday (30 March). Barry and I go back a long way. I wrote an article about his property Boronia Farm for ABC Organic Gardener magazine back in 2006. Incidentally, Boronia Farm is the birthplace of the Lady Williams apple. The original tree still grows beside the farmhouse.

Maybe I’ll see you inside!