To Penetrate the Earth

Aikido's founder, Morihei Ueshiba, was not only a legendary martial artist, but a farmer and pioneer who was among the first to colonize Japan's harsh northern island, Hokkaido. He based many of the basic concepts of Aikido's body harmony upon the most efficient movements developed while working the land. Karate, and its weapons system of Kobudo, were developed by Okinawan rice farmers, and its weapons derived from farm tools.
I felt this connection with civilization's founders today as I broke earth of my own. Part of the reason I chose my modest ground-level apartment was for the rather sizeable patch of earth beside my barbecuing patio... and today I finally found the motivation to prepare it for impregnation. I bought $30 worth of cheap garden tools at home hardware (a hoe, a rake, a transplanter, spade, and cultivator) and took the first steps, tearing up the moss cover and discarding of any evidence of neglect. I wouldn't be surprised if this plot had never been made useful, with all the torn up shopping bags and bottle caps I found buried in the first 3 inches of topsoil.
But what beautiful topsoil it was! The pungent, moist aroma of black earth must have been pining for release for years, and welcomed the rape of my hoe as liberation. Countless healthy earthworms and fat green grubs found my efforts a little more aggressive, I'm sure, but they will soon come to understand the meaning of my toil. The grubs may be doomed, but I will continue to enlist the longer warriors of my writhing legion as allies. My only concern, at this point, are the skunks that seem to have burrowed underneath my patio... I'm sure that, if they discover carrots and beets and parsnips popping up, my earthly occupation will seem like a gala buffet in their honor, and I will have to declare war.
Until these problems rear their heads, and I'm sure countless unseen enemies will wage continuous terror on my terroir, I will contemplate on the patio with a glass of riesling and a bowl of curry, considering the fate of its careful cultivation. Even if my efforts are destined to be doomed by the usual usurpers of organic utopias, the act of laying my seed brings me closer with the earth. Gardening is, for a Foodist, what the Reformation was for Christians. Through connecting with the earth with two hands and a hoe, we reduce our reliance on the interlocutors of our faith. Safeway shall no longer be my priest – I shall henceforth read the Bible of the earth with my own body and soul, and reap the rewards of direct connection with the dirty divine. Amen.