Garden Prose

I should have written this sooner, while the memory was fresher but alas, time is often the enemy. Today was precious, one moment outside the press of time--
There was an instant of Samadhi as I stood in the garden surveying my work. There is no bliss as complete as this communion with the earth. Strange, I have always loved gardens, but I never wished to garden. Better to watch others at this work, to enjoy the fruits of their labors than to cover myself in scratches and dirt just to pull a few weeds. My garden is changing me. She whispers to me. I think of her often. While I never plant anything in her soil, she brings me peace. Cars may rush by this haven nestled in the city but I am undisturbed in her shade.

Who could have dreamed that weeding and trimming would feel like an act of art and creation? Who could have dreamed that beside the earth and plants, one could know the divine? I climb between the plants and feel that I am one with God. There is no seperation. My faith grows. I put my faith not into something, something outside myself, but rather to the pulse of the divine within me. The same divine creeps from the plants before me and dwells in the spirit of every living being on the planet. I don't need to hear God speak aloud. There is a voice within me, a voice in the garden that guides my step.

My faith grows. I know that the key to an amazing life is before me if I just listen carefully enough. I feel the heat of the sun and the cool of the shade. I smell the fresh dirt and the flowers blossoming around me. It is in rare moments we find oneness but right now, I have it. I truly believe there is no seperation between you and me, he and she and them. Things are simpler here and yet all complexities are revealed.