When I returned from a recent two month adventure south of the border doing missionary things and such, I soon discovered that, while her guardian had given the Maggie all of the love and attention that she requires, the garden received more of a tough love treatment. I had been wanting to change things up a bit and had a few ideas inspired by some of the gardens I had seen while traveling and this was the time to do it.
First, I enjoyed a beautifully rolled cannabis cigarette crafted from discount shake and trimmings which, by comparison to what I had been consuming during my travels (not complaining, just saying), was mind-blowingly amazeballs. I then proceeded to make my best attempt at turning the vision of the garden in my head into the garden of my reality. I pulled weeds and tilled the soil between the plants, transplanted a few of the hardier plants from one location to another and cleared out a bunch of small rocks and stones from the soil in the process. Incidentally, if you’ve been contemplating placing an order from my line of Sensible and Sustainable Religious Product Alternatives, I suggest the Stones from My Garden - they make a great gift, too. Anyhooters, by the end of the afternoon some of the plants had been moved to new locations, most - if not all - had been trimmed or pruned, a couple had to be euthanized, and one was killed in a weed pulling variation of friendly fire. Perhaps it was the projection of my own guilt for having neglected the garden for two months, but there were feelings of resentment sensed.
Being darn near impossible to predict the future, I am unsure if my garden will recover and grow to how I envisioned it. However, I did receive what some might refer to as a ‘not completely unsolicited sign,’ the likes of which would have made any corrupt evangelical preacher shout hallelujah, speak in tongues, and all the things. It was glowing Jesus fish (or horizontal lady parts, depending on your perspective) which had appeared at sundown - on the night of a full moon, the day of the culling of the plants - on the fence in the garden. It was like the, again unsolicited, seal of approval from a universal intelligence with a sense of humor. Of course it was just the sun’s reflection shaped by the surrounding objects and it is highly unlikely that a universal intelligence would taunt me with a glowing twat.
As I continued to trip out looking at it, I wondered if it had always been there and I just hadn’t noticed until tonight and pondered if so, how easily this could be exploited as a business opportunity and possible pilgrimage site with an outrageous ticket price (rather, suggested donation) to view the “sign from the divine.” It has all of the makings of a niche religious branch/crazy ass cult—and there are apparently many humans who are drawn to these. There is even the potential for an entire industry to be created around the Cult of the Illuminated Jesus Fish/Horizontal Lady Parts in the grand tradition of religious capitalism. Not only was this a good sign, it’s an even better business opportunity.
Is there a moral to this story?
Indeed there is a moral, and questions, too. If you are looking for signs to justify your actions and assuage guilt, you are bound to find them. Chances are it won't be because the universe has offered it to you in the form of some divine sign, it will be because you are seeing something and interpreting it as a divine sign because that is what you want it to be. When I subconsciously looked for a sign that the plants were happy, one appeared for me to find. Or did it? Would it have appeared if I hadn’t done anything in the garden? Whether I interpret it as a pious pescado, a sacred snatch, or even the reflection of a levitating naked lady with chrome lady parts who hovers over my house at sundown, the point is the same…be careful who you ask to take care of your garden.