Mowing the bank

The backyard has a steep bank with stumps and rocks where weeds grow. I went out to trim it yesterday with the "weedeater" using some cheap string, and it lasted all of 5 minutes. It's interesting trying to see my original nature and that of the weeds while I'm scrambling up and down the slope with the growling of the trimmer's engine. It's very hot and humid, and because I missed a week and a half of mowing due to rain, the weeds are very tall and thick. After that I get to take the lawn mower down the hill to mow the flat area, then drag it back up the bank. My conditioned response is to look at getting hot, dehydrated, sweaty, and sore from such activity in a negative way, as something to be dreaded or avoided. At the very least, it's seen as unpleasant, especially considering that the bank won't really look all that great even after the work is done and it has to be repeated week after week until the cool chill of autumn relieves me from such yardwork until the following spring.

And yet, according to what I've studied, there is a lesson in it somewhere. A chance to see past form and formlessness, to see reality as it is. I take it as a sign of my lack of cultivation that while I willing go to do such tasks without complaint, I do not see anything but an unenviable task.