Mind Garden

I could have walked right through the park, teeming with bronzed and ruddy workers, oblivious. I was chewing the cud of a difficult situation. A few, in fact. Kids, work, the house, the recent move. Stresses were piling up and I was feeling it, which is why I went out to the park in the first place – to be alone, to think, or maybe to not think. I was in no mood for distractions.

But something caught my eye. Maybe because there were so many landscapers and gardeners, and they were toiling seamlessly, as if coordinated by an invisible hand, to create something new out of familiar space. Something told me to slow down and look.

Some of them were pulling, tagging and uprooting. Some were digging holes and planting flowers and grasses. They were driving mowers and other open-backed trucks, and they were transporting and unloading tools, saplings, and soil. I was captivated.

I had never really thought about the work and “intentionality” that goes into creating a lush field or public garden. Of course, I know that whatever grows must have been planted, but it occurred as I watched that I generally take things that grow in nature for granted.

Now hold on. I could feel myself getting distracted. I was supposed to be busy stewing in stress and confusion. I didn’t come here to think about tree placement and weed control when I had a business that needed revamping and an auto-immune condition flaring up. I had just a little time before I had to get home to my kids, the dishes and the laundry, and I wanted to use it wisely. If I was going to come up with any solutions, it had better be now.

But with all the busyness and unearthing going on around me, it became impossible to focus on myself. I was riveted by the gardeners who were on their hands and knees yanking up the roots nobody wanted, roots nobody planted, roots that seemed to exist solely to suffocate an otherwise healthy garden by diverting the soil’s nutrients for themselves.

Just the thought of those weeds added fuel to my frustration. Because like all the other unasked for, uninvited, unwanted stresses and pressures of life – the financial, emotional, social and physical – weeds, in whatever form, always manage to invade.

As I stood there wilting like a weed-choked flower, stuck in a tangle of vitality-sucking thoughts, I realized that the life of the mind has a lot in common with gardening. And that if I expected to stand a chance of thriving, I had better get my gardening gloves on. NOW. Because just like invasive plants that wreak havoc on a garden, destructive invasive thoughts can sabotage the mind.

Obvious, right? If you want a rose garden, you need to plant it and you need to tend it. That takes weeding.

And what I want more than anything is a beautiful, lush, colorful, healthy mind garden. I want waterfalls, bird feeders, herbs and tall trees.

With that, I started to imagine all my dark, depressing thoughts as ugly weeds. In my mind’s eye, one by one, I began to yank them out.

“It’s not fair.” Gone.

“Why me?” Plucked and discarded.

“I’ll never get what I want.” BYE BYE!

In those spots where weeds had been, I envisioned myself planting flower after flower.

The flower of “God loves me.” Digging deep…planting it in the earth.

The flower of “God did, does and will do everything and it’s all for the best, for my eternal good.” Nestled securely in the ground!

The flower of “I have everything I need right now, which means that I know how to get what I need to accomplish my goals.” The flower of “everything that happens to me happens for me,” and its companion blossom of ‘life is a gift to help me grow and fulfill my potential.” Done! In the ground and ready for water.

Focusing on these beautiful images in the garden of my mind shifted my perspective from one of panic and stress to one of calm and inspiration. I suddenly felt at ease, hopeful, and abundant. My mind, now the ideal temperature to host green grasses, colorful flowers, fragrant herbs, exotic trees, succulent cacti, and chirping birds, has become a vision of inspiration for me. I want to live there. I want to make decisions and process life from that place. And I knew that if I wanted to keep it lush and healthy, I would have to maintain it. Daily.

Time to go home and get busy.