The Garden

In my garden there is a large place for sentiment. My garden of flowers is also my garden of thoughts and dreams. The thoughts grow as freely as the flowers, and the dreams are as beautiful. ~Abram L. Urban

As I have written before, I am, sadly, not an adept gardener. My gardening skills (or lack thereof) are legendary. I can manage to kill even the most hardy of plants in a matter of days. I have even tried to grow herbs in pots on a sunny window sill in my kitchen, and still have found my efforts to go unrewarded. I am somehow able to manage to over-water and dry out my flowers simultaneously. I have never figured out where my deficiencies lie. I'm simply content to admit that I am not, and will never be, one of those extraordinary people like my Grandma Rose, who could take a simple cutting and make an entire plant out of it.

What I lack in ability, however, I try to make up for in appreciation. I delight in other people's gardens. I have friends whose gardens are the most tranquil places on Earth, but at the same, a true reflection of their personalities. One friend, who is incredibly orderly and precise, has the most lustrous roses I've ever seen. She has each type of rose down to an exact science. Her beds are labeled with both the common and Latin names for each species. I have another friend who is a designer. Her garden reflects her intuitive and creative nature. She has wildflowers mixed in with annuals, and native perennials side by side with rare Asian flowers. Yet, it all comes together to create a cohesive, elegant design in a seemingly random fashion. I have loved going to visit Botanical gardens in many of the cities I love. I've enjoyed the variety of natural designs in the Arizona, California, Georgia, Rhode Island and New York. I've daydreamed walking through garden paths in France, Germany, Switzerland, Austria and Italy. Each public garden showcased the natural elements native to the region, but did so in such an aesthetically graceful way, it was just like walking through an art museum outdoors. I've never left a garden feeling anything less than serene.

During one of my yoga classes, I began to picture using the image of the garden as a visualization technique. I asked my students to envision themselves in the garden of their dreams. Some pictured the highly manicured gardens of palaces, such as Versailles or Hearst Castle. Others pictured more Zen inspired creations, like Nanzenjii Temple in Kyoto, Japan. Still others thought about the gardens of their childhood, some with vegetables, rather than flowers. Yet more contemplated a strictly imagined place that exists only in their own daydreams. Each one of my students was able to construct the mental image of the garden that best suited their needs, thoughts and ideals. I asked my students to envision these places as ones they could cultivate on their own, returning to them over and over again. I asked every student to conceptualize this peaceful oasis, and to ruminate on the healing properties of their imagined space. During this exercise we began to notice tiny weeds cropping up in our meditative inner yards. These weeds would begin microscopic, and then begin to grow larger, choking off the plants we'd so carefully constructed in our minds. They'd begin to take over the garden if we didn't immediately cut them off, pull them out by the roots and not allow them to grow in that same space.

The weeds, I explained, represented the negative thoughts we have each day. The flowers, shade trees, helpful herbs and lovely plants symbolize the areas of growth, as well as our positive thoughts and personal strengths. The garden itself is our very soul. As we find the way in which we notice how the weeds our growing in our minds, we can discover ways to 'yank them out by the roots'. We can empower ourselves to prune our thoughts regularly, and to allow the flowers we wish to cultivate to flourish. We can do this by identifying the negative thoughts (the weeds themselves) as they occur through practicing yoga, meditation, prayer, exercise, reading, daydreaming and even, yes, actually spending time in a physical garden. We can create the inner garden of our hopes, dreams, wishes and goals. We just need to remember to sort out the weeds that tell us that we're not good enough, we're not smart enough or we simply don't deserve to have beauty in our lives. These weedy thoughts are insidious. They will creep up when we're low and take over our entire oasis if we're not careful...choking out all the goodness and light. So, we need to make time each day, even if it's only for ten minutes to close our eyes, look for the weeds, and get rid of them.

Hanna Roin once wrote "The greatest gift of the garden is the restoration of the five senses". I would take her words one step further. I believe that the greatest gift of the garden includes the five senses, but is actually the restoration of our soul's serenity, creativity and contentment. Ask yourself, what does my garden look like? Where are the weeds choking off my flowers? How can I prune them to allow my garden to become inspirational? I'm sure your own garden will be extraordinary.

Farming, Growing Things and a Brown Thumb

I never had any other desire so strong, and so like to covetousness, as that one which I have had always, that I might be master at last of a small house and a large Garden. ~Abraham Cowley, The Garden, 1666

My Grandma Rose was an amazing gardener. She was able to take a tiny cutting from any type of plant, coax out roots from it, and then transplant it into her garden. She lived in a historic Russian Hill Victorian in San Francisco, and despite the house's many period treasures, it was her beautiful English garden that captivated me the most. In the midst of a busy urban center, she cultivated her modest backyard into an enchanted space, complete with winding walkways, unusual breeds of flowers and vegetables, and a yellow wooden playhouse that divided time between her potting shed duties, and my dolls' tea parties. Grandma's garden always had something new to capture my attention, to draw me further in and to cast a spell upon my childhood self. I found peace there during stressful times, and pure joy, during happy ones.

These memories make it all the more tragic for me that I have not inherited Grandma's gifts for plant cultivation and landscape design. Additionally, I lack even the most rudimentary of 'growing' skills. Beyond that, I seem to have become the antithesis of my grandmother: where she could breathe life into any increment of flora, I seem to be the instrument of torture and death to them. I have long joked that I am the Dr. Kevorkian of plants....they seem to find their way into my home and yard when they want to end their own lives. Once, my friend, Mary, was in the midst of a major home remodel and had to remove all her house plants from the construction zone. Mary is one of many friends who are exceptional garden enthusiasts, and her yard has been featured in the House & Garden show several times. When she asked me to mind her houseplants, I begged her to find another host family. Seduced by my bright and sunny front windows, Mary promised that I couldn't possibly kill her indoor plants, if she placed them herself and left me specific instructions. She was wrong, and they were dead within a week. We are still trying to figure out exactly what went wrong....fifteen years later. I bemoan my lack of gardening abilities. I have read books, I have taken nature walks with landscapers and consulted specialists. Everyone is left with the distinct impression that I honestly have a Brown Thumb. It's a "gift". This time of year in northern New England, many of my friends are consulting seed catalogs and beginning to get their orders placed for the coming Spring. I'm simply listening to their conversations and wondering if I missed out on learning the secret handshake in Kindergarten.

Therefore, a game on Facebook has left me particularly excited. Facebook is a social networking site through which I've been able to remain in touch with close friends and family, as well as to rekindle friendships from long ago. The game "Farmville" was initially a sore spot with me. Several of my dearest friends were posting accomplishments, winning blue ribbons and having barn raising events. They were growing everything from rice to roses, and landscaping their virtual plantations beautifully. I had to roll my eyes and wonder how my vastly intelligent, well educated and interesting pals could be so enamored by a silly game. And, then I tried it. Despite the fact that I did manage to kill my first few (okay, more like first dozen) virtual crops, I did begin to enjoy the game. The better I was able to produce my produce, and take care of my livestock, the more I was rewarded. I found that improving my farm's layout, crop rotation, and type of seeds used truly helped them to flourish and grow. With each successful harvest, I was rewarded with the ability to expand my farm and try new seeds. For the first time in my life, I've found some measure of enjoyment in watching my yield accrue. There is something deeply satisfying about sowing fallow ground, choosing which type of plants to produce, watching them blossom and then in-gathering the results. Even though these plots of land are simply virtual squares, and my "Me" is just a character controlled by the click of a mouse, I'm proud of my little farm. I have a barn, a dairy farm, a chicken coop, a silo, scads of animals, a farmhouse and many plots of different crops; from grains to flowers to vegetables. I have grape arbors and cranberry bogs. My tomatoes and red and luscious. My roses are full and hearty. My sheep bah. My cows moo. And my ducks quack. It's a goofy cartoonish game, and yet I find the whole experience to be oddly satisfying. I can almost picture myself walking through the lanes between my fields, brushing my horses and fertilizing my grains. I can wish myself a cup of iced tea as I survey all that I have grown.

I still harbor the hope that someday my real yard will resemble something akin to my virtual garden. And yet, in every day life, I realize that I have the opportunity to create 'something from nothing' through my words. In writing, I have the ability to cultivate the soil of my imagination by reading good books and listening to the advice of others. I can plant my own seeds of ideas and nurture them along with practice. I can wait patiently as I work through rewrites and yank out any literary weeds that are sapping my energy. I can watch those first shoots of persistence spring up, and I can harvest them by finishing a piece over which I've toiled. While my writing will never resemble that of William Shakespeare or even John Grisham, I will have the satisfaction of toiling over each word in the piece, from beginning to end. In that, there is a sort of farming garden of words.

Perhaps someday I'll have rosemary by my garden gate, and a small pond with swans swimming, surrounded by lavender and lilac. Or, perhaps, I'll leave this part of my life as metaphor and leave the real gardening up to experts.

Bearing Fruit

A tree is known by its fruit; a man by his deeds. A good deed is never lost; he who sows courtesy reaps friendship, and he who plants kindness gathers love. ~ St. Basil

The Harvest Theme is prevalent this time of year. All cultures, from indigenous peoples to urban landscapes, seem to take time to relish hard work's results. Many elementary schools will offer field trips to go apple picking, churches will be hosting harvest festivals, high schools will have homecoming weekends and businesses will even bring their financial picture to a close for the year. Although the calendar year continues for several more months, the time of harvest is one of celebration, appreciation, goal accomplishment and bounty. It's also a time to take stock in what went well in the past year, and a time to plan ahead for next. Whether we are evaluating our home's garden, or our financial gains, we have an exceptional opportunity to see which areas bore fruit and which did not.

In a garden, most plants will bloom each year, given the correct conditions. Plants need the proper amounts of sunshine, water, fertilizer or nutrients and soil. They need to be pruned regularly to remove excess growth in the wrong places. They need to be studied and cared for. Yet, despite our best efforts, there are years in which our trees do not bear fruit, our flowers never blossom and our vegetables remain stunted. Our garden may appear to have stalled. We can pour over our notes, ask other gardeners and inquire of our neighbors similar plants. In the long run, however, if a plant has stopped bearing fruit, despite our best intentions, then it's time to cut it back to the ground. Some plants will respond well to this harsh treatment; they'll come back fuller and healthier the next season. Others, however, remain lifeless and useless. These are the plants we need to remove, roots and all. If we don't take the roots out carefully and completely, weak stems will continue to spring up and will suck the life away from healthier plants. We have to excavate all trace of these plants to allow those around them to flourish, and to allow for the sowing of new plants in their place.

Our lives can sometimes feel like a garden that's not doing well. There will be some areas of our lives that are thriving. These aspects are receiving the correct, balanced amount of time, care and compassion. Other areas may seem to suck the lifeblood out of us. We may feel drained, angry, bitter, unappreciated and uncomfortable. However, for many of us, we would rather carry on in a job, a relationship or a habit pattern that is unhealthy than to hack away at the life-draining roots of the problems. It's never easy to make those cuts. We don't want to feel like "quitters". We don't want to let people down. We don't want to feel as if we have failed. If we change our attitude regarding this non-fruit bearing areas in our lives, we will find that we can make the drastic cuts with a clear conscience.

The first step is to identify those parts of our lives from which we receive no satisfaction, from which we feel stymied from making a valued contribution or from which we feel distressed. We have to take an honest appraisal of our schedules. What is taking up the most time? How do we feel about that commitment? Is it gratifying or soul-wrenching? Not every part of our day is going to be fun. Yet there are some commitments that act like emotional vampires, robbing us of our ability for growth in our more productive areas. Sometimes, this may entail walking away from a committee, on which we find we have absolutely no voice or role to play. We may find that

we spend more time debating than accomplishing our mission. For others this may involve ending a relationship. At one time or another, all of us have been involved with people who are draining, volatile and overly demanding. They give us no positive reflection in our lives, but only take what they want, treating us badly. It's never easy to cut out a person from our lives, but there are times it must be done in order to preserve our other relationships...and our very well being. We have to be methodical, polite and pragmatic in this process, acknowledging our own enabling but in the end, still cutting that person out of our lives, down to the root. Leaving a job that's not working is also challenging, especially if we need that position for our income. In this instance, it may not be possible to simply slash and burn as we quit. We need to think of our future as we would planting a garden: we tend to prepare the soil by contacting employment services and reading the classified ads, as well as to inform our contacts that we are job hunting. We need to prepare our resumes as we would prepare a seed to be planted, and then scatter those seeds in the places we believe they'll take the firmest hold. Finally, we need to add the right amounts of confidence and persistence, as we would add sunshine and water to our garden. When the new plant of our new job begins, we can remove the old roots...politely.

The bearing of fruit in our lives is incalculably important. We want to be productive, positive, joyful, creative and engaged people. This will not happen overnight. Just as a garden can take years to cultivate and grow, so will the fruit of our efforts. But, if we make small changes to improve our outlook, our perspective and our goals, we can begin to see the tiniest green chutes of success begin peeking through the soil. With attention, focus and meticulous care, we can find that our harvest, one year from now, will one of plenty.