It was that time of year again, time for the yearly organic farm inspection. I had an on-the-spot inspection from the Department of Agriculture back in the early autumn, which was grand, but this inspection was from the Irish Organic Association, one of two organic regulators that oversee everything organic here in Ireland.

First was a walk around each soggy field. The rain had been relentless now for the last 5 weeks or so. My dog, East Coast Collie (not her actual name), spotted a hare running out from the hedge. She went to give chase but tiptoeing across the waterlogged field she decided to give this one a miss. The inspector wanted to see that the crops in fields were as per my paperwork, and I suppose she was also looking out for any evidence that I might have been using chemicals, for weed control for example.

We stood chatting in the middle of a field of red clover and I showed her some of the weed problems I was having. I had some small pockets here and there of thistles that I’ll probably just hoe out by hand as it didn’t seem like a major problem. I wasn’t too concerned about it. She agreed, and also noted that all the fields actually looked ok and fairly weed free. 

We returned to the kitchen to complete the paperwork for the formal part of the inspection over coffee. We chatted about how there’s a good few extra farmers in the organic scheme this year and it seems to be growing. I asked if many farmers leave the system each year. She said that you always get a few that want to leave the scheme for different reasons.

I went on to tell her about a man I got talking to, and he was telling me that he wanted out of organics and when I asked him why, he replied that he couldn’t deal with looking at the weeds anymore, he just couldn’t stand them around the place. The inspector said that you do hear of people like that, and even though they are often financially better off remaining in the organic system, they opt out.

I couldn’t help but think more about that man that couldn’t deal with the weeds. I remembered that as he was telling me he had his head held down, almost in shame or in some sort of distress. If we had to have been in a psychological intervention setting or even just good friends I would of asked if he wanted to tell me more, but we weren’t, and I wasn’t going to try and convince him to stay in the organic scheme either. He clearly knew what he needed to do to distract himself from whatever suffering he may have been experiencing.

This reminded me of a case study over in England where Farouk, a Kurdish refugee, was part of an allotment project to help him heal from the trauma he suffered in Iraq and to also help him integrate into British culture. On his allotment plot he was free to grow whatever he wanted under the guidance of the head gardener all while receiving therapy by a psychotherapist that would visit Farouk on the site.

For a long time Farouk grew nothing, he let the weeds completely take over including scutch grass, a notoriously difficult weed to get rid of. Colin, a British man who worked the allotment plot next to Farouk’s, was outraged by Farouk’s lack of care of his plot, often shouting at him “is this what you do back home, that’s not gardening that’s a mess”. He continued by pointing out there’s chemicals out there to control weeds. Of course ‘back home’ the Iraqis sprayed poison gas on the Kurds, so no Farouk wasn’t going to start spraying chemicals on his plot.

But he didn’t know how to start, he was so traumatised that all he knew was anger to survive and he was often witnessed kneeling on the ground banging his fists against the weed covered soil of his plot. He cried “I have no patience, that’s my problem, and that’s why my wife left me and took my children away from me, I need to learn patience”. Behind Farouk’s impatience was his anger which he took out on his wife and children, often physical.  And with that he began to focus on the weeds. One by one he started pulling, not just the weed that you could see on the surface, but he would dig up the soil and trace every root that belonged to that weed and pull them out too. Onlookers in disbelief would insist that it would take him far too long and there would be an easier way. But Farouk continued, for months and months, and as he did he talked about all the suffering he had experienced in his life time with both the therapist and the head gardener. The weeds were like bad memories that he needed to erase.

As time goes on Farouk has some good days and some bad as he relives his trauma, but all the while he is learning patience. Soon his wife, Zara, started paying him a visit while he worked on the plot. She sees the change in him. The visits become regular and they start sharing lunch and tea together, and more importantly their stories.

The time came when every weed was cleared, the soil was all dug and fluffy, ready for planting. Soon the plot is turned into a beautiful oasis of flowers, herbs, fruit and vegetables. Colin from the neighbouring plot is amazed by Farouk’s methods and became more understanding why he done what he done. The two become close friends and Colin started a campaign to get the rest of the allotment plots to turn away from chemicals and towards organic methods. Both Colin and Farouk often went on to win prizes for best plots. Farouk reunited with his wife and children, and although weeds often returned to the plot Farouk had learned that there will always be suffering, but patience was the skill he learned to deal with it.  

What often happens for people is that the solution to long term problems are often out of reach due to difficultly finding the words to describe what is happening to them so that they can process their trauma. From an Eco-psychological perspective the person experiencing suffering is encouraged to integrate themselves more into nature to help with this process. In the above case study, weeds are used as a metaphor for all the bad things in Farouk’s mind and as he worked his way through weeding his plot he found those words he needed. We can also use other metaphors such as the weather, changing seasons, rivers and mountains etc to help us all find words to describe our own personal suffering.

My own organic inspection wrapped up after about an hour or so. No issues were found, so all is good until next year. Looking out across the fields and seeing weeds never really bothered me, I can except them. Sometimes weeds are there to tell you something about the soil. Some weeds thrive on acid soil, maybe I need to add lime to change the ph of the soil, I don’t know, I’m not an expert on that knowledge, but it’s something I’d like to learn more about.

However, I do need to learn a bit more patience with dealing with weeds in my kitchen garden. Here I have no choice but to get down on my knees a pull those weeds, or I’ll lose my food crop. I can have everything perfectly weeded in May, then come June if I turn my back for 5 minutes the weeds are three foot high, and you end up thinking to yourself ‘what’s the point in all this’. But as I’m learning, the good life is a hard life, but to acknowledge your own suffering can also lead to a more authentic rewarding one.

Ultan

The above case study was taken from book ‘The Healing Fields’ by Sonja Linden and Jenny Grut originally published in 2002.

Although the image used above was AI generated, no AI was used to write this post.