I stood outside in my back garden. It was a few days after the shortest day in winter and I was well-dressed against the chill in the air. I wasn’t there too long, just about ten minutes or so. It was a new practice for me.
As I stood there, I made it a goal to just listen with an open mind, like I would listen to a good friend when I wanted to connect with them. The moment I started doing this, an intense feeling washed over me. It felt like the garden felt that finally, someone is deeply listening. Just like a person, who could finally let go of all she had to say, it felt like my garden started to “unload” what it had to say. And as I said, it was intense right away.
I got the feeling of being confined and a difficulty to breathe. Not suffocating, but not totally free for sure. It felt like a restriction that has been there for years, but didn’t become the accepted norm. There was a hint of rebellion in the heaviness and sadness that arose in me.
When I raised my eyes and observed the garden, a new chapter seemed to open in the conversation. Another feeling and another word came to me: Abundance. I felt the desire that was present: to burst through the dead, into the living. It felt like the garden has been trying to come to life through every possible free crack and cranny between the heavy tiles and fake grass that covered most of it.
The garden wanted to breathe freely. I didn’t know at that moment just how to do it in a practical way, how to help the garden fulfill it’s full potential, while not having to spend all my time out there. I had no idea. But I made a promise to keep listening, just like I’d do it with a good friend. I made a promise to be at least the witness for now and when the practical idea came to me, to help the garden the best possible way.
Open up and listen. The base I keep coming back to.
Our True Nature 