gardening in the mind

my counselor and i rooted out a dying shrub in the landscaped garden of my mind. 

it left a hole larger than i was expecting. 

you see, this shrub didn't look like it was dying. in fact, from one angle the part that was still thriving was growing wild, reaching for new ways to take purchase. it was necessary to remove it because keeping it meant the shrub could potentially choke out other plants or worse, spread disease. 

but now i have a hole larger than i was expecting and i don't know what to do with it. when i scan over the landscape, i no longer feel continuity or ubiquity. now my mind is caught on the substantial void—and the ways it must be filled. 

this poses questions as i am certain you'd agree. what do i fill it with? is my counselor also a gardener, and can help me determine what is best suited to plant there? will the soil first need tending as i emulsify nutrients for optimal growth? if so, what does that look like? or perhaps we can just pick a hardier species of plant, one that is apt to the overall scheme? plant it, water it, and move on. 

and then there is the final option that a fellow gardener of the mind suggested. what if, for now, it is enough to fill the hole with more dirt, cap off the drip-line from watering that area, and tend it by plucking weeds that aspire to sprout; allowing space for a while? 

this feels right for now. knowing that any time of my choosing, i can dig deeper or plant something anew. 

a notable thought

 this morning, a life was saved.

i was looking ahead in my morning walk, glanced down for a moment, and was able to save a pill bug's life by shortening my step a fraction. 

the pill bug continued on its way, unaware anything remarkable had happened. 

this brought to mind that sometimes the tiny things bring great happiness to someone else — and quiet satisfaction to ourselves. 

somewhere today, a child will discover a ladybug. someone is going to pull the first tomato from a backyard garden they have been checking each morning. someone who has been trying for weeks will finally make the connection that lets them tie a shoe. someone will catch the largest fish ever and they won't have to exaggerate the experience. ...there is also someone who will find peace withing by setting a boundary. 

none of these things are newsworthy. yet each moment is notable. together, they keep the world moving forward.

nothing big. 

just things we notice when we pull our eyes from our path ahead for a moment and shorten our step a fraction. 

golden light of gratitude

 thinking about gratitude today...

i have spent so much time moving from one thing to the next asking 'why' and 'how' and 'when.'

somehow i forgot to the time to notice what 'is.'

'is' doesn't ask anything. it doesn't solve anything. it simply acknowledges what has already been settled. resolute. — i feel that is where gratitude presides.

there is a time in the morning where the light surrounding us transitions from a cool, murky blue to warm and golden. — that is what gratitude does. 

it takes the focus from seeing only what the day may bring, to showing what is. 

gratitude doesn't pain the world in gold. it is revealing the small details that were already there and may have been missed due to obscurity by the grade of light. 

map and compass

 i lost the map i once navigated life by. 

granted, i had created the map from landmarks and coordinates that were not quality foundational reference points. after all, how can a cartographer have an accurate representation when they are basing their map on the time of lowest elevation as a waymark?

somehow this map has served me well enough that now that it is gone, i am the one feeling misplaced. standing in an open meadow, not certain which direction will give me cover from the elements and unsure which direction leads to home.

i would love for someone to let me use their map, yet i know i wouldn't fully trust its markings and would struggle reading the key. 

must i begin anew?
constructing an atlas from old truths revealed in clarity, incorporating trusted pieces of others' maps,  and adding new wayposts as i navigate through new terrain?
...or is it enough to journey in wanderlust exploring each moment. guided by some well known landmarks and trusting my compass will help me orient? 

i wonder if that is how all maps are made after-all. 

pooled thoughts

 my mind is swimming in pooled thoughts. everything feels fluid and difficult to hold. 

sure, there are thoughts that cling to my skin like a droplet of water, but they are miniscule and difficult to expand into something more. the conclusion i have come to as i am in this state; i will allow the thoughts to ebb and flow as i lay back and tread the waters of my mind. 

hoping the current will lead me somewhere more solidified. 

intangible weight

why is it that we add weight to things that are not tangible? 
i said, "things" which made me realize that perhaps we must add weight to nouns. ...and in that sense a thought, idea, event, or emotion that becomes so heavy, it becomes a noun because it is easier to grasp—yet, harder to hold. 
really though, why is it that the intangible, the unsubstantial, the incorporeal are often the heaviest things we could carry? 

and why does it matter? 

...matter. 

meaning equals matter. 

and matter adds weight. 

what divine design we live in. 

spring preparations

​the last week of february and it is warm enough for my dog and i to sit on the back porch. the sun is bright, but the surrounding crisp air creates a barrier to the sun’s warmth. the birds are busy announcing their plans as they engage in their work to prepare for the upcoming spring soirée. and dottie and i? we are here for the spectacle and glad that we don’t have to participate in the work. 

stained glass

today i was walking towards the exit of a building and looked up to see a stretch of window with a large, beautiful piece of stained glass in the center. it was simple in design, yet the color was breathtaking. i was thinking that it was just what I needed at that moment. 

color. 

in a world that is gray, gray, and more gray due to the attributes that mid-February brings alongside her nonchalant attitude in regards to my opinion on choice of color. 

i vaguely found myself curious if this is why medieval churches and castles used the glass. then, quickly moved my pondering to why i hadn't noticed the beautiful color as i was entering the building. was i too rushed? visually distracted? was my mind elsewhere? 

i soon found the answer to be, no. 

as i walked through the door, i glanced back and looked up. it was not visible from the outside. 

...why?

why would someone put that work of art somewhere that it could not be enjoyed from both views? that glorious color that would brighten the world? why house something that is only enjoyed as someone is inside? are they keeping that color and joy to themselves? hoarding a treasure? or was it something they believed would show, but the construction of the building wouldn't allow it to be seen from the exterior? if so, what would be the expense to adjust the construction to make the change for better visibility?

how interesting of a thought when the mind turns inwardly. am i housing something beautiful and colored that no one can see but a select few? am i protecting it for self and others interpret it to be that i am hoarding something to be treasured? or is it that i believed i would show it, but then constructed something that wouldn't allow it to be seen from the exterior? 

if so, what would be the expense to adjust the construction for better visibility and sharing?

goodbyes

 why are some goodbyes more difficult than others? most are thoughtless and don't involve the heart or a second thought. then there are the sharp ones that are meant to convey anger, hurt, or bitterness. there are goodbyes that take effort to say because it will be a while before seeing someone again. and then there are the ones with so much weight on them, the mouth struggles to move to get the word out because saying it means accepting the inevitable. 

how does one word hold so much to it? two sylables. seven letters assigned to express a message that ends any previous correspondence. possibly till next time. till next year. or... till never again. 

it seems to me that the significance of the word and the weight behind it, depends on a few things. the distance of time, the depth the emotion in relation to the connection, and the length of time of the departure. 

yet, we decide these variables in the blink of an eye without ever really putting our mind to the math involved. the heart is the one that decides the equation. 

in the midst of the mist

flying amongst the clouds
looking at shrouds below
a refraction of light
in the midst of the mist.
one concentrated point
one. in the spans of plumes.
a scintillating touch
bring forth inner musings.

crumpled paper

i lost another day.

in honesty i don't think it can be considered a loss when i am throwing them away.

i throw days away like others crumple papers after scribbling or writing on them.

here's the thing, i am not writing or scribbling, or even doodling on these pages of days of life. i'm tossing perfectly empty pages away.

why is it that i'm not utelizing my time well? it's waisted on staring at a screen with pictures and others thought and ideas. but what about mine? what about this gift of life that i am waisting? i can't continue to throw away each day of my life. ...and yet, fear says i can.

constant motion

i feel envious of the creek behind our home. the water is in constant motion. ever moving forward. never staying idle. how would it be to move forward and never have to question where you are going or dwell on where you've been? rivers and creeks take things on for a while, a twig here, a leaf there, but it ends up depositting these things on the side shore and continues on ever pursuing its travels. its journey forward.

yes. i am envious of the movement of the water, for i feel stuck. i feel i've been idle too long. perhaps i am that desposited twig stuck in some reeds or the shore. not knowing how to continue on the journey. would it be better to be the leaf and not really moving, but allowing the flow perpetual motion to carry me adrift? carrying on without purpose.