Earth Etude for Elul 29 - Farmers of Our Souls

by Molly Bajgot

something that the earth knows well

is our attempts to conquer, manipulate, and control her.

in this High Holy season,

in the return to oneself,

we are asked to abstain from the conquering,

manipulating and controlling —

that it may lead to understanding our impulses for doing so: 

to each other, the earth, other beings, and our own soul.

we have a task, this Holy season,

to do teshuvah —

to relinquish, however micro or macro we can -

the impulses and ways we farm our subconscious and conscious minds

with seeds that have been handed to us

back in times of vulnerability or fear,

that have since grown thick underfoot,

convincingly planted in the soil of our own hearts,

gone unmarked with sharpie and popsicle stick

to remember them by, as ‘non-native.’ 

As young farmers of our souls,

may we weed out what has been strewn in the rows of our own homes:

the ones that we sowed and so wanted to reap from —

for we heard they would profit.

but those folks were not prophets,

and it turns out our own local weeds are now high on the market.

we can choose to 

reclaim, recultivate, reinvite our main birth crop 

back to our home —choose now to carry it to term,

brilliant and unshaking

and not calling it a weed, but calling it ourselves.

when we give way to this difference —

we’re met with new blooms and potent fragrance 

scents that snap us back to something ancient and unkempt,

so familiar, like our first days of life.

though perhaps now we can perhaps see,

stepping back, taking in our new garden minds, 

how on this planet

we give credence to the monocropped, manufactured seeds

so orderly and pleasant looking

so similar to each other —

so not of our own —

when we look towards ourselves 

this Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur,

may we seek to identify

what serves to be uprooted and left to dry in the paths

in the last solar days of summer, this season.

may we seek to identify what of our sister heart

we’ve left untended to in this last year of life.

may we rush to her, bolting to term, to save her seed 

in peak of our fall days —

let her be 

carried by wind to the four corners, no,

seven corners of our soul, 

multiplying further, from the tips of our

eyebrows to the tips of our toes,

always whispering to her, "you deserve to be cherished." 

know, young farmer, that this toil is not unmet with merit:

that years from now, after this weeding and reselecting of the seeds of your soul

you will not need any new seed — for she will become again

your natural cropping

blooming time and time again each season,

already harvested,

already sewn,

in to the sleeve of your soul

coming home

becoming whole.

amen. 

Molly Bajgot is a Jewish signer-songwriter currently living in Western Massachusetts. She is a lover of music, healing arts, and the outdoors. When she gets the chance to do these things together, she feels as home. Being in the garden is a place of mystery and metaphor for her. She loves to craft ritual, and to be in community both as a member and as an organizer. She looks forward to molding all these passions together in to a career throughout her life.