Life in the Ashram, Four: "Clean Dirt" (Another look at the challenge of seva!)

As mentioned two postings ago, one of my favorite trees is the Copper Pod, for the very reason that the blossoms of this magnificent tree are the most amazingly gorgeous I have ever seen.

I could not find an image to do it justice; you will simply have to use your imagination and picture thousands of these gorgeous wonders dropping like yellow rain onto the pavement and soil beneath the trees. They inspire awe, stop someone like myself in their tracks. I can only stand and gape. But...I cannot, for I must now be sweeping!

What do these magnificent Copper Pod blossoms have to do with "clean dirt", you might ask, and rightly so. And...isn't this an oxymoron?! You betcha. (Also rather reminiscent of my mother's refusal to get a white dog, proclaiming her distaste because such an animal would "show the dirt"!)

The idea of "clean dirt" popped into my head the other day when, to my immense exasperation, the Indian women who do seva with me persisted in "cleaning" the dirt under the coconut palms by sweeping up these gorgeous blossoms. Why? This is a mystery I may never understand! When I try to reason with them, even the ones who speak a decent amount of intelligible English lapse into their modes of selective understanding. They think that I am the crazy American who protests, unreasonably, about their idea of cleaning up in the gardens!

My failed attempts to elicit their comprehension of my reasoning tax my equanimity to the max! I have tried every angle: "Ladies", I have cajoled, "Think of a forest. Would you go around "cleaning up" leaves and blossoms from the bottoms of forest trees?" Or, "You are sweeping up topsoil, the most nutritious part of the earth for this Palm", or more basically, "You are starving this poor tree of its much-needed nourishment!" And so forth.

At best, they merely look at me with perplexed expressions, and continue the business of sweeping these gorgeous blossoms--by the hundreds--from out under palms and other garden trees. Along with them, of course, come great assortments of leaves and vast amounts of earth.

At the worst, they prattle in Hindi to each other, shake their heads, look at me and laugh.

Once more, I have a choice: scream, throw down my own broom, run away...go work in the kitchen instead! OR... I can laugh right along with them.

I choose the latter.

What's  more, you will see me out there in the gardens, side by side with the lavishly adorned ladies in their saris, bristly Indian broom in hand, sweeping up buckets full of the Copper Pod blossoms!