holding seeds like prayer beads

As we were planting small rows in our backyard, I thought about the way of seeds.

The way a small wonder is contained inside, ready to explode into plant and fruit and seed.

The way the earth envelopes a seed and encourages it to thrive.

The way the wind blows and seeds scatter - planting themselves. Effortlessly.

The way my body has grown a seed into a beautiful baby. Seeds became prayers became girls.

And the way of these children - holding seeds like prayer beads. Planting. Daring hope to live and breathe, push out of the ground, grow and produce.

The farm-girl part of me knows that these are my prayer beads - each one planted with a prayer for rain and sun and growth and sustenance. The rhythm of planting: Plant a seed. Pray. Plant a seed. Pray. Cover with soil. Water. Hope.

I learned something interesting about beads: that the word "bead" comes from the Anglo-Saxon words bidden (to pray) and bede (prayer). Strings of beads are used in many religions - Christianity, Islam, Buddhism, and Hinduism - to centre the mind and to pray.

So these seed beads help me to be centred and think of the bigger picture. Besides these little spiritual connections, it's just fun to dig in the dirt and get hands dirty. Don't you agree? Is planting a spiritual activity for you?

Some of my favourite poetry and stories have to do with planting seeds. Like this one:

Sowing Clover by Wendell Berry (in Selected Poems of Wendell Berry)

February 2, 1968
In the dark of the moon, in flying snow, in the dead of winter,
war spreading, families dying, the world in danger,
I walk the rocky hillside, sowing clover.

Or this quotation, from Henry David Thoreau's Faith in a Seed:

Though I do not believe that a plant will spring up where no seed has been, I have great faith in a seed. Convince me that you have a seed there, and I am prepared to expect wonders.

And this children's book: Miss Rumphius, by Barbara Cooney, who scatters lupin flower seeds all around her town and on hillsides. Her grandfather had told her,

"You must do something to make the world more beautiful."

This is something I learned from my grandparents: to plant, to tend, and to rejoice in the harvest. And to live my faith in simple ways like planting seeds and praying. Now if only I had a greener thumb.