Ah, the return of summer.

The return of green grass, blue sky, snow still hanging on the mountains…

And the weekly labor of mowing the lawn.

For me, the lawn has become a meditation.

It used to be a curse.

It used to be this thing I had to do. I would mow it, feel good for about six minutes, and then complain because a week later…

There it was again.

Growing.

Needing attention.

Asking for care.

I used to think, If I could just mow the lawn once and be done with it.

Which is hilarious, because that’s not how anything alive works.

You don’t say “I love you” once to your wife and call the marriage handled.

You don’t clean the kitchen once.

You don’t tend the garden once.

You don’t take care of the body once.

The sacred things require maintenance.

Or maybe better said—

The maintenance is the sacred thing.

That was the twist for me.

The turn.

The little revelation hiding inside the hum of the mower.

What used to feel like a chore has become a weekly devotion.

A chance to step into the now.

To release the noise.

To walk the land.

To care for the little patch of earth I’ve been given.

My weekly devotion has begun again.

I am once again…

The Meditation Lawnmower Master.