Beyond the Garden

I cherish my plants. The bamboo and little cypress and bonsai trees and the plants outside that greet me each morning.  As I tended the bamboo I heard the whisper ‘Beyond the garden.’  I left the house shortly afterwards and sat on a rock sitting 10,000 feet above the earth pondering the whisper.

Gardens are to be cherished.  But at some point, for me, they become a metaphor of life.  I carve out a little piece of my full spirit, make a garden, and call it me.  The gardens we create let us feel needed, we tend them, they can even make us feel important, even let us feel in control and the tiny piece can even bring joy.  But I am not called to live in a carved out garden, a sliver of myself.  Called to go beyond the garden and fully awaken my expansive soul. Perhaps that is why nature calls so longingly and strong.

‘Look and see! Cherish your gardens, your niches in life, but they are only reminders of how much awaits, how big your spirit is and your heart. Cherish and tend your gardens, honor, compassion, and gentleness.  But they are not you as you were meant to be.  Do not be satisfied with one plant one piece of yourself you call your own when all of this, all of you is waiting for you to answer the call. Beyond the garden my child. My little one, beyond the garden the bounty of your full self awaits. Step out, step out and embrace the calling in your heart. Beyond the garden. Beyond the garden my child, You await.’  

Standing on top of the rock I realized if anything in the world breathed the quintessence of the will to live it is nature.  Stretching my arms out, face to the wind,  I shouted “Alive. Live. A Life. Life. Life lived.”   

Walking the path back to the car, still breathing the wind, the ever present doubt whispered, ‘Dark days will still overwhelm you, you know.’  Stopping I placed my hand on a tree and whispered back, ‘Perhaps.  But I have stepped beyond the garden and hung onto the wind.’

Unmined

That which we have given value, declared precious, rare, to be sought after no matter what, lie deep within the earth.  We drill, mine and draw forth minerals and stones the diamonds, gold and oil.  Yet the trees which sustain us,  give us our breath, shade, hold fast the earth’s soil and shelter nature’s fragile creatures, stand naked and exposed.  They have no mountains to nestle inside.  The earth’s soil, for some, barely covers their roots.  Exposed to all the seasons they stand and give.  Even when stripped they have learned to survive, re-birthing the sap and leaves in the spring, to give, yet again.  Those that have fallen to the seasons or fire continue to give as they enrich the earth.  Without them, we would find it difficult, if not impossible, to exist.  They would die if hidden in a vault to protect their worth.

Sweet hands of life, I was simply walking watching the wind bend the trees and make the leaves dance, when it occurred to me they have no shelter.  They have nothing  except what they have become and are…life rooted in the certainty of earth’s soil, reaching upward, sheltering and giving life.  Sweet mercy, do you think maybe we don’t have to dig and claw trying to find value, worth and meaning?  Maybe we just have to be what we are…rooted in the certainty of earth’s soil, reaching upward, sheltering and giving life.