“I am the owner of a kin’s domain. It is not just a dacha or a vegetable garden, but a real corner of nature: a garden, a forest, a field - on a land area of more than a hectare. In such spaces, taking care of the territory is not an occasional job, but a way of life. One of the most regular and indispensable processes is grass cutting. And those who have faced it, know: the task is not easy, especially if you do not have an internal philosophy.
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Quite by chance, in one chat room I met a woman who has her own kin’s domain. At first we talked about weather, trees, and land, but quickly moved on to the eternal question of everyone who lives in a kin’s domain: how to deal with grass? How do you not get swamped in thickets that don't ask permission to grow?
I mentioned animals - maybe geese, goats or cows would help?
- Tried them all, she replied.
- Geese eat selectively. Goats, too. Some pass, some don't.
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It turned out she had tried a lot of things: trimmers, lawn mowers and other equipment. Everything is noisy, energy-consuming, requires attention and does not solve the main thing. In the end, she mows by hand. Yes, heavy and slow, but without noise. The pace is about the same as a trimmer, but more effort. Inwardly, however, she feels better that way.
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And then she said a phrase that sticks in my memory: “My worst nightmare is that someone comes and cuts my trees. Trimming spruce trees from the bottom. It's like they're getting into my soul.”
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For her, trees are part of herself. And then I remembered my story. I used to treat mowing like a war. I used to go out with the feeling that the grass was the enemy and I was a soldier. My wife reacted harshly at the time: don't do it, just don't do it.
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I argued. Said the plot was overgrowing, the weeds would drive us out. Pheasants and hares will live, not us. But she wasn't convinced. I realize now that she felt the destructive energy I was creating. The energy of struggle, fatigue, anger. It's impossible to feel peace in such an atmosphere.
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Today I approach mowing differently. With the image of an artist. A sculptor. I see the plot as a living sculpture. I'm not a warrior, but a creator.
And one day, as I was cutting the grass, I realized that it's this image that makes all the difference. You don't fight. You create. When you mow with an attitude of love, the energy comes. You don't lose energy, you're filled. Your body becomes light, your movements become precise.
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Because your hectare is not a battlefield, but a temple. And then even a trimmer becomes a brush. And every blade of grass is a part of a big canvas, where you leave only the main thing. Therefore, a truly effective and harmonious way of caring for the kin’s domain is not in technology. Not in robots, not in goats, not in motors. All these are tools, but they are not the point.
The point is the image. The inner state. This is a psychological technology - not to fight, but to live. Not to be tired, but to be filled. Not to destroy, but to create. A kin’s domain – be it a hectare, a hectare and a half or two hectares - requires not only effort, but also meaning. If you approach the land as a sacred place and not as an enemy, nature responds. Then nature is an ally. And you are no longer cutting the grass. You create a space of life and love.”
Author: Valeriy Katruk, the kin’s settlement Schastlivoye, Moldova.
