The Sacred Act of Composting

A light-hearted yet spiritual look at my experience in composting. by Philip Bourdon

I miss my compost pile. When I divorced several years ago, I did more than leave my house. I also said goodbye to something that had become important to me - my compost pile. What had originally started out as simply throwing some grass and kitchen waste into an out-of-sight corner in the yard developed into a systematic and organized approach of transforming waste into wonderful organic stuff. To me, composting became a life-affirming discipline.

The casual and occasional afterthought developed into a craft beginning with the construction of the bin. As a baby is safe and secure in her crib, compost is free to develop and transform in the confines of the bin. After reading up on optimal cubic footage, proper proportion of nitrogen to carbon and the need for moisture and oxygen, I simply wired together some old pallets, attached some wire mesh to minimize spillage and my compost had its own “crib”.

Besides the normal kitchen waste, grass clippings and dried leaves (the latter two preferably chopped with mulching blades on the mower), I began to find all sorts of ingredients to mix into my organic soup. Along the way home from work I used to pass a lumberyard. The compost pile (“pile” seems too pedestrian – let’s call it the “Mix”) enthusiastically welcomed its monthly nutritional supplement of sawdust presented in big, green trash bags. A few times I picked up some earthworms at a country store. Those little guys do wonders for the organic breakdown of the Mix. Once I added those packaged chemical- composting enhancers. I felt a little guilty about this however. It seemed like I was cheating as I was adding those composting “steroids”. Even though the township did not perform random testing, I stuck to the au naturale process after that.

After months of regular turning the Mix over (it needs that oxygen for proper breakdown), it began to take on a whole new look. Of course, my Ex pointed out that it certainly didn’t look as black and smooth as that stuff you buy in bags. No fair! How could she compare my humble yet sincere organic stuff to some professionally “grown” full-time, monitored, pedigree stock? Besides, like any craft, composting takes time to learn. I can assure you that in later years my backyard mix broke down as well as our marriage.

Obviously, the purpose of composting is to develop homemade vitamins for your soil. But I found that the process enriched my soul as much as my soil. I simply love the idea of taking “useless” waste and discards and transforming them into something that is life enhancing. There is something redemptive and yes, even theological about the process. It has to do with acceptance, affirmation, transformation, metamorphosis and the endless cycle of life and death. The fact that I could participate in this ancient art and have fun doing it was wonderfully satisfying to my spirit.

I did have plans to develop a three-bin structure out of redwood where I could have an almost constantly “brewing” mix of organic wonders. However, I now live in an apartment within a house where there is not enough yard for even the smallest of composting efforts. So, until my living situation changes I’ll hold onto the sweetness of my memories and know that for awhile I participated in a simple and sacred act in the continuation and development of life.

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