Spring is here, and that means it’s time for me to pay some attention to my garden beds. Time to cut back the dead, scoop up the leaves that have over-wintered there, and, you know, care. I did manage to clean out most of them, then found myself stalled by weather and apathy, so there they sit, kind of half-dressed. It’s shameful, really: it was a lot of work (and a fair chunk of change) to get them where they are, and you would think I’d be more motivated to nurture them, yet too often I default to autopilot, choosing to curse the bindweed rather than actually managing it.

That’s not the only garden I tend to overlook. Take, for example, the garden that is my actual life, my so-called “permanent record.” How’s that one looking these days? Is it, too, suffering from benign neglect?  

Very likely.  Truth is, tending to that garden takes a lot more focus, not to mention a strong stomach. Yet, it’s probably time to do an accounting. OK, yes, I hear you, it’s always time to do an accounting. Do it soon; do it often! Take inventory now, while you still have time to make some repairs.

Look hard, Anne, don’t spare yourself. What truly lurks there?

At the start of the new year I read a memoir written by Geddy Lee, one of the 3 members of the band, Rush. (I know, this seems like an abrupt change of direction, but it’s germane, I promise. Stay with me.)

I have always liked Rush, though I would describe myself as an appreciator more than a fan. My brother, on the other hand, falls easily into that latter category, an OG Rush devotee, the band and its music deeply woven into his own life story.

Anyway, I know a lot of their songs (who doesn’t?), and of course am familiar with the band-mates, acutely aware of the passing of drummer/lyricist Neil Peart a few years ago. At some point I watched an excellent film about the band which only widened my awareness and deepened my, well, appreciation. So, loving memoirs as a rule and keenly interested in Geddy Lee as a musician, I was eager to dive into his book, My Effin’ Life, and for good reason. It is astounding: deep, candid, funny, reflective—a fantastic read.

The book led me back to the music which led me to their final studio album, “Clockwork Angels.” I had planned a playback of their entire catalog in reverse chronology but honestly, I haven’t been able to get past this one album.

Why this collection on repeat? Why am I unable to move on? Lots of reasons, too many, really, but I only want to talk about one, the final track, the piece that continues to play on a loop inside my head: “The Garden.”

(Aha, you’re onto me now, aren’t you?)

In this one of many possible worlds
All for the best or some bizarre test?
It is what it is and whatever
Time is still the infinite jest

Ah, time, that favorite subject of people over 50. You’re right, it is, and do you know why? Because we’re running out of it! Tick, tock, tick, tock—there it goes . . .

The arrow flies when you dream
The hours tick away, the cells tick away
The Watchmaker keeps to his schemes
The hours tick away, they tick away

The song doesn’t exist solely to remind us that time is running short, however, and neither do I. Acknowledging the preciousness of our allotment is one thing; deciding what to do with it is a whole other discussion. The band offers this:

The measure of a life is a measure of love and respect
 So hard to earn, so easily burned
 In the fullness of time
 A garden to nurture and protect

There it is. This is the part I can’t shake.

“A garden to nurture and protect.”

“So hard to earn, so easily burned.”

The stakes of this life seem to compound as I get older, the totality of my good thoughts and deeds threatened by one potentially horrible misstep. This song reminds me.

Years ago a friend and I were contemplating “Hell.” (I know, another cheery segue, but it all goes together, really.) I put the word in quotes because I’m still not sure if I believe “Hell” exists, much less have any idea what it would be like. Yes, I’ve seen the paintings; dunno if I’m buying.

My friend, though, had a specific take on this. For him, “Hell” is spending eternity watching a video playback of every time you’ve hurt another person. Roll tape, and keep it running: you are forced to watch those moments on ceaseless repeat until the end of time. Bullying a 3^rd-grade classmate? It’s there. Swiping your brother’s hard-earned paper route money to by candy (for example)? There. Cheating on your girlfriend? There. Berating your kid? There. Embezzling from your employer? There. Et cetera. Ad nauseam. Ad astra.

Whoa. I am generally not much moved by warnings of eternal fire and damnation, but the idea of reliving every second that I have inflicted pain on another person? Forever? Yeah, that scares the shit out of me. That is hell.

Surely, that is not the garden I want to cultivate. It might be the garden I have, though, so perhaps it really is time for me to do some tending.

The treasure of a life
 Is a measure of love and respect
 The way you live, the gifts that you give

What I love about this song—what stays with me—is the idea that the garden we create is both precious and vulnerable: it needs to be valued and protected. “So hard to earn, so easily burned.” And it’s fleeting.

The arrow flies while you breathe
The hours tick away, the cells tick away
The Watchmaker has time up his sleeve
The hours tick away, they tick away

Unlike home gardening, the ultimate “wait til next year” activity, this garden is now. What we choose, this very moment, can mean its improvement or its undoing.

I am talking about the garden as my own life’s work, but let’s face it, we can extend the metaphor. A home, built and developed year after year—one careless match, gone. A marriage, decades of planting, watering, pruning, pulling weeds—one disastrous decision, destroyed. And so on:  values and integrity; a business; forward progress; a nation; reputation; trust. All ephemeral, tender, priceless. A lifetime to build, a moment to demolish.

So what’s in my garden? Have I sowed love (and earned love or respect in return)? Have I grown healthy relationships and interactions? Have I honored my fellow humans, caring for and about their peace and welfare as much as my own? Or have I been an asshole?

Have I been generous and kind, or selfish and cruel? Have I been honest and appreciative, or have I been greedy, narrow-minded, and cold?

Humble band-mate, or spotlight-hogging dick?

I think the song is more poignant and powerful after reading Geddy’s book (we are apparently on a first-name basis now) because now I know a little more about the men who created it. Men who are far from saintly, but by all accounts (not just his own) caring, respectful, considerate, and kind—especially toward each other.

Look at the “garden” they created together, the three of them, beginning in 1974. Look at the breadth and depth of their legacy. Look how extensive their reach, even now, all these decades later.

This song inspires me; Geddy Lee’s book inspires me; the band’s lives inspire me. Do better. Be kind. (OK, they are Canadian, so perhaps they have a native advantage on that one.)

More than anything, it keeps me aware:

“So hard to earn, so easily burned.”

Careful there. Be mindful of what you put into that garden, dear self, especially now that you are into your 4th quarter.

The future disappears into memory
 With only a moment between
 Forever dwells in that moment
 Hope is what remains to be seen

Postscript: Music is made to be heard and not seen, and I hope you will take a few minutes to play this through, even if (especially if!) this band and this type of music isn’t typically to your taste. (Don’t worry, it’s not a head-banger.)  This video was recorded on the Clockwork Angels tour in 2013.

© 2025 Anne Murphy and thewordsfallout.com. All rights reserved.

Lyrics and video, “The Garden.” Music: Geddy Lee and Alex Lifeson; Lyrics: Neil Peart

Photo by GreenForce Staffing on Unsplash