Inner Garden

Today I looked at my rosegarden and was astonished at the poor condition of my beautiful rosebushes. These darlings were planted with such care, attentively pruned and fed for years, and produced giant, sweet smelling, beautiful blooms for me all year. I inspected the half-dead plants, whose sturdy stalks have become spindly spines, stretching for breath, stretching for light. My heart broke as I touched each one. In my months of wandering confusion, searching for my soul, my future, I had heartlessly ignored them. Devoid of water, nutrients, pruning, and appreciation, they now looked like thorny skeletons with a smattering of leaves, straining to hide their nudity. I knelt down into the garden and apologized profusely.

How could I have been so heartless, devoid of caring for these beauties that had brought me such joy? I gently pruned each one, watered and fed them, offered my apologies, and begged Mother Nature to kindly wrap them in loving care. I sent silent hopes to each one, willing them to survive, for their spirits to return, for them to bloom again, to once again become part of my world. As I slowly walked away from the garden, I realized that what I wished for them, I wished for myself. Over the past few weeks, I’ve pruned my life – getting rid of things that no longer serve me. I’ve fed myself new dreams, ideas, hopes, and love. I’ve forgiven myself for judging me so harshly, and I’ve asked my Higher Power to wrap me in warm blankets of care. I plan to bloom, along with my roses, in the upcoming months.