Adventures in Wortcunning: BS & Compost

Compost …

chicken … manure

bull … whoey

horse … pucky

Awwww … Crap!

__ it happens.

The President and Mrs. Roosevelt were at a ladies luncheon during the Great Depression of the 1930s when this very subject, manure, became the topic of conversation. The President appeared as an honored guest and even spoke to the ladies as a favor to his beloved wife Eleanor. During the course of the speech, Mr. Roosevelt had occasion to use the word… well… to use the word manure in reference to some of the problems we were facing as a nation.

Despite their gratitude for the appearance and speech of the Guest of Honor, Mrs. Roosevelt received quite a bit of flack about this choice of wording when the luncheon was over and the ladies felt free enough to speak their minds to the First Lady. Eleanor smiled and here I will paraphrase her reply to their concerns with a characteristic twinkle in her eye, “Manure? Honey, you should have heard what he was going to say!”

We don’t like straight out talking about times when … things go wrong in our lives., when the feces hits the ventilator, when it goes to Hecate in a hanky, or Hel in a hand basket.

We tend to use euphemisms–like manure or compost–or, preferably, avoid the subject altogether when we talk with friends. This stuff is gross. It’s caustic, and a little too personal for casual conversation. Besides, it just plain stinks.

If the grass is looking greener on the other side of the fence, it must be time to fertilize.

In the tradition of Pagan translation of everything, particularly natural process and cycles, into anthropomorphic or human terms, let’s look at this idea. What does it mean to “fertilize” our lives?

Does it mean we should spread a bunch of BS around?

Well, that depends…

Once upon a lily-pad and a long, long time ago. I had a boyfriend with the gift of Blarney. What is “Blarney?” It is an Irish word that has come to mean something like having the gift of gab, the ability to slice the baloney thickly, spread the BS around, or otherwise talk your way out of anything. It is a careful choice of words that has your bothersome neighbor paddling cheerfully across the River Styx; it paints a rosy picture omitting the thorns.

Together, he and I would go to a place. Let’s say, a ball game, grabbing a drive-thru burger on the way. Our team might win, or we might lose. This would only affect the mood of the evening. Later, he would describe the event to friends. He spoke in colorful detail with an eye for advertising the fun in a moment. Sometimes I wouldn’t recognize the event from his description and I would catch myself thinking, “Dang, I wish I had been there!”

As a result, to hear it from him, we always had fun. And because that is what was focused on in the retelling, I learned to remember things in this way, discarding the rough edges of a carefully cropped scene. This doesn’t mean you ignore the unpleasant, but by not feeding it more energy you minimize its impact in your life.

The function of compost in soil and growth is to add nutrients back, as food, to the cycle of life. What was once alive, died. It was eaten and in the process turned to… what have you. It has already been digested. And when it first arrives, it is hot. Hot to the touch, and hot chemically too.

You can’t put too much of it on the soil in one place or everything around and under it dies.

How do we grow from it? The crap in our lives feeds us in various ways. We learn from it. From our own mistakes and the mistakes of other people in our lives. Sometimes that hurts. But still, it gives us something important. It gives us compassion, sympathy and understanding for the troubles that others are going through.

And because we’ve survived it, means we’re probably smarter now too, and won’t place ourselves in that situation again.

When do we grow from it?  When we laugh at it. Give it time to cool down – you know, deal with it when it isn’t as ‘hot’ to talk about. Egos can get bruised in the first few minutes, hours, days, weeks, or even years after something poopy has happened. It takes a while before a painful memory is old enough to laugh about. Yet, laughter is good medicine for the soul.

Spreading the BS around – a little blarney is a good thing from time to time. Look at the good, and crop the bad from the mix. Sorting what we can’t use from the nutrients, it is what we take from the lessons in our lives that makes the crap worthwhile.

The Working

For the working gather and place:

• a flower pot (center altar)
• a bag of garden compost (North)
• herb or flower seeds (East)
• plastic wrap or damp cloth (South)
• water (West)

This working is a great mystery. Begin as you normally would, perhaps by creating sacred space, and insert this rite as appropriate to your needs. Consider what you are planting and the good that feeds it from the compost in life.

1. Take a flower pot from the center altar
2. Fill with (sterile) garden compost from the North
3. add a seed or two in the East
4. keep the soil & seed from drying out with plastic wrap & a rubber-band, or damp blessing cloth in the South
5. add some water from the West
6. After adding the water, return your planted seed to the North. Take a moment to express gratitude for the mystery of compost and how in time we may find something good from even the most awful offal in our lives.

The newly planted container is a token of the working. Hint: be careful not to over water. Water once and cover. This should be enough until the seeds sprout. When they do, remove the cover and plant as usual.

And may this all a Blessing Be.

(Adapted from an open ritual prepared for Community Seed, June 2015)

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