American Koans #1: Volunteers

by Mark Saltveit

Maybe I’m just lazy.

I plant nothing. Own no tools. Use no fertilizer or pesticides.
Couldn’t even tell you the names of the plants. Just wait for “volunteers.”

I look at my garden. If I don’t like a plant, I kill it. I keep killing until
I like everything.

Volunteers grow where they want, without my direction but with my permission.
If I had planted the identical seed, I might have put it a foot away where it
would get too much sun, or not enough water.

I trust nature to write, and sometimes I edit.

My garden is unruly. It grows in its own season. Birds and butterflies love it.
Everything is in its place.

Now, to be honest, sometimes my daughters plant things that my wife picks
out for them. And I don’t object.

I have my principles, but I’m not an idiot. They’re volunteers, too.