One of gardening’s great blessings is the peace it affords the gardener. When problems weigh upon me like an anvil, I open the French doors and walk outside. My shoes step onto the path with a satisfying crunch, and after a few moments of wandering here and there; deadheading a salvia or a rose with a snap; spreading spent Zinnia seeds; or pulling a weed, my worries dissipate. My mind settles, and there is a stillness to my thoughts. It is this same stillness which frees writers to write, and painters to paint. Gardeners can visualize the next pathway, planting bed or where a particular plant should go.
All of us, in our own fashion, are artists.
We are each painting the canvasses of our lives. We, and our children, need a time of peace and quiet for our minds to quit spinning. It is only in the stillness that we are given the power to create.
This ability to quiet the mind from all of its troubles and yearnings is sometimes called meditation. I’ve spent a lot of time working at this practice, and it is as good as taking a nap in the afternoon. Not that naps are a bad thing, but a quiet and alert mind is another way to renew.
So, here’s my suggestion. This evening, just before the sun sets where you work and play, when the light is soft and pink, take a moment or two (or sixty) and walk among your plants. Whether you have an extensive garden or a few pots, these precious moments spent with nature are your reward for fighting the good fight another day. It won’t be long before you’ve reframed your thoughts. Maybe you’ll even reach a plateau where time stands still, and when you go indoors, you’ll realize you’ve spent more time outside than you intended.
If so, consider it gift and thank the heavens that we are given such.
As my friend, David, would say . . .