Visualization and Seeds

My back porch is my favorite thinking spot. It is 7 feet or so above the back yard. In the winter, even with the glow of streetlights, I can see Orion in the sky above it. I can watch the sun rise over the mesa, and the moon. It isn’t a particularly beautiful outdoor space. It was added decades after the house was built (it is a turn-of-the-century Victorian home). It is really an awkward addition. None-the-less, I frequently find myself there, sitting on the steps: contemplating.

I’ve received really good news on those steps, and really terrible news (either on the phone, or person to person). I’ve had stunning realizations, brilliant ideas, meditations, contemplations, inspiration, heart break, prayers, conversations, reality checks, on my back porch.

It is a neutral space. With one step out the back door, I am far removed from the everyday clutter and business of home life. Yet, it isn’t part of the garden, either. From its vantage point, I can consider all of these things without being a part of them, and I have done some serious considering.

I think the first time it happened was shortly after moving into the house. I looked out onto the back yard. It was open to the alley, no fence. For years, it had been used as a parking area. There was not a single beautiful thing to look at. The ground was mostly bare, not even a weed. It was rugged and uneven, sloping down toward the alley. There was some kind of ditch running through it, deep in some places from run-off from the house (an indication that it used to rain here). It was sad. But I sat there, on the back porch, envisioning something else. I would stare at the ugly, barren space, and then close my eyes. In my mind, I built a fence, I leveled the ground, I planted a garden, and I watched it grow.

Since then, I’ve visualized many a project both short term and long term from those steps. Visualization became a useful tool for motivation. It didn’t matter what the current state of something was, I could see past it. If I could take the saddest back yard ever and turn it into a beautiful, enchanting place, then there wasn’t much I couldn’t do.

I didn’t know if it could be done. I didn’t test the soil. I didn’t focus on how hard it would be. I focused on the end result. I set to work. It wasn’t as instantaneous as my vision had been. But it did happen.