Grass Practice (Diaz)

 

"Know that in this way there are myriads of forms and hundreds of grasses [all things] throughout the entire earth, and yet each grass and each form itself is the entire earth. The study of this is the beginning of practice."

I am to study the grass, immerse myself in the grass, know the grass, BE the grass. There are hundreds of types of grass, each with their own form and distinctness. When I searched for an image of grass, I even discovered a special type of grass that is best for dog owners. How does getting lost in the grass help me practice?

What happens if I think only about grass and leave my to-do list unchecked, for now. I walk outside barefoot and my first encounter with it is how it feels on my feet. My grass is sparse out here in the country so it is mixed with a lot of weeds, some are prickly and they crunch underneath my steps. If we haven't had rain in some time this is much more unpleasant to the soft skin of the underside of my pedals. I think I have just murdered several unnamed bugs as I've stomped through the grass to get to my meditation spot in the middle of the yard, "Sorry, little ones!" I wonder if they screamed out in terror and warned their neighbors to scatter as they looked up and saw a giant coming their way? Well, that moment is over and I have no remorse, I am not attached to those creatures anyway. They had a good run, I imagine. Anyway, this is a grass practice not a bug practice so let's sit. 

In the middle of my yard, as I sit down and consider the grass, I have many vantage points available to me. I can sit tall and look down upon the grass from a more distant position. I can slouch over my criss-cross applesauce legs and gaze down lazily, slightly nearer than before. Or I could lay on my side and hold my head in one of my bent up arms holding my head off the ground as high as my forearm will reach, still closer than before. If I were truly committed, I could just go for it and stick my head face down right in the grass as I lay flat on my stomach. Maybe then I could make amends to the bugs for my murderous rampage. I digress to the bugs. Ahem. 

Each different vantage point gives me slightly different information about the grass. As I sit tall, I still see as much of myself as I normally can see, as I sit upon the grass. I'm distracted by the colors of my clothing and the extra weight I'm carrying on my frame thanks to my poor trauma processing through Covid madness. I'll lean forward instead.

Leaning forward, I see less of myself and more of the grass, but I still see the sparkly sea-foam glitter color nail polish my love chose for my toes during my last pedicure. Oh wait, here's a blade of grass, I'll pluck it out of the earth, severing it at the ankles so I can bring it closer to my eye and take a good hard look. This practice thing isn't so hard. I see a thin, light-ish green, folded in half, tiny veins running up and down its length, rabbit-chewed tip, ankle-severed rear, blade of earth. That rabbit at my 12 o'clock looks on in utter confusion....or is it terror.....or is it disinterest.....nevermind. I'm just hoping there's not a giant rat snake at my 6 o'clock eyeballing me. Back to the grass. I decide I'm still too distracted, I'll get closer to the grass.

Leaning on my side with my arm bent and holding up my head, I can definitely see more grass. I'm close enough now that I no longer feel the need to slaughter one just to get a look. As my left hand holds my head, I use my right hand to feel the blades as I run my fingers slightly along, barely through, just below the tops of the blades. I feel patches of grass more dense than others but I'm low enough that I can't tell where the thick patch begins and where it thins out, I can only tell by feeling. I'm beginning to be able to smell the earth and I've lose sight of most of my body now....a tiny, black, flying gnat has just decided to embark on a suicide run for my left nostril....impossible choice my dude. The world of the grass is becoming more clear to me. I see more of it. Many blades coexist in groupings, little families, their tips stretching up toward the sun and their tiny rears grounding down for stability into the earth below its dirty surface. They are short, and still, and patient, not taking more than they need, not bothering anyone else...they even let little eight legged creepy crawlies have their way all over their surfaces. Not a care in the world. Except that one from a second ago. But I can still see that rabbit eyeballing me and his incessant staring is making me uncomfortable. I need to just go for it, plus my arm is getting tired of holding up this eight pound mass of fluid and tissue. Here it goes....thud.

Now I'm face-down in the grass and I have become the grass. I AM the grass. I see nothing else. I'm so close that I can no longer make out any other form. I can't even make out the form of any particular blade. Though I'm definitely aware of the blade that has chosen to go after the gnat in a valiant effort of rescue....little does it really know of the fate of that pesky intruder. I smell nothing but earth. I hear the life within the grass tickling my ears and I'm certain if I opened my mouth I would ingest only the very best that this country life has to offer. I know I'm here. I know I'm still me. I'm pretty sure the rabbit has called a friend over to take a look at the weird new neighbor who just moved in. But that's only in my mind, my imagination. What I really am right now is the grass. The grass is me. We are sharing this moment and even though I know there are a myriad of things all wrapped up in this moment, the grass is front and center in my experience. This is our moment and suddenly I love the grass. I appreciate all the grass does in this moment. It explores me, it opens itself to me, I am open for however the grass wants to explore me, proven by the blade still finding refuge in my nostril. 

OW! SCHEISSE!!! 

My head flies up in a jolt and spins violently to follow my hand as it reaches to smack whatever that was that just bit my ankle. That's it. I'm going back inside. There's too many frickin' bugs out here.