Solitude in the Magical Garden

Solitude in the Magical Garden

Solitude in the Magical Garden

Over the years, I have shared stories from the Magical Garden throughout the changing seasons. This time, instead of a season, the story roughly encompasses the span of an entire year. The past year was a season of solitude. As an introvert, I crave solitude. Actually, I embrace it with every ounce of my being. As this is how I function, it allows me to connect with myself and the environment. The word solitude may sound lonely, but to me, it whispers introspect. It is precious, uninterrupted time. You’ve probably guessed, I rarely ever experience boredom. Thankfully, my beloved family all share this love of solitude, as we are all introverts. Respecting one another’s boundaries and the need for space to recharge is never an issue here. Don’t get me wrong, there were many things we missed, such as concerts and vacations without all the restrictions, but we adjusted.

And so, the Magical Garden showed me how beautiful solitude really is. Sometimes the garden was a disaster as I tinkered and moved things around, but I didn’t have to worry about tidying up before a visitor stopped by.

It was ok just to let it be.

Because of this, certain parts of the garden took on a wildness that was a welcome surprise. Incidentally, in the midst of all the wildness, I became a bit feral as well. Little bits of wildness from long ago found their way back to me. However, that is another story for a different time.

In these moments, the resounding theme was “thrive and grow.”

I welcomed it; this was the message I needed. While the world felt like it was on pause, it was a blessing to witness the plants in the Magical Garden as they continued to thrive. The critters that stopped by for a visit weren’t conscious of the current issues that plagued the world. Merely their intent was checking if I had left them any treats or refilled the water dishes for them. It was utter bliss to observe a buzzing bee, the flutter of a bird’s wings, a wiggly earthworm in a handful of soil, and the scurrying little creature I only caught a glimpse of- was that a faerie? All of this and more in my tiny sanctuary amongst the plants’ melodious sounds as they swayed in the gentle breeze. This is where dreams and inspiration find me.

A pre-pandemic camping trip in Arizona. Here we wildcrafted mullein plants and cleansed pendulums in the creek.

At the start of this new year, someone asked me to describe my life experience this past year. My reply was similar to this-

A leaf that has fallen into a stream will inevitably find its final resting spot. There are stops and starts all along the way, but it isn’t aware of where that last spot is. It may get stuck on a rock until a wave appears and propels it forward. Sometimes, the leaf becomes entangled in a fallen branch on the shore. It begins to wonder if this is where it is supposed to stop and begins to find comfort in that place. Then it starts to rain, and as the river swells, the leaf breaks free and begins moving forward at an even more significant speed. The water is moving fast, and the leaf is tossed about with the force of the rushing water. The strength of the water occasionally lifts the leaf out of the water. Moving this quickly is exciting, and the leaf absorbs all the views as they swiftly pass by. Further down the stream, the water begins to soften. The flow of the stream takes on a peaceful yet purposeful quality. The feeling of stability has returned, and so the leaf continues, still not knowing when it will arrive at its final spot. But there is comfort in knowing that the stream is there. There is gratitude for the water that continually moves it forward, even if it seems too hurried or too sluggish at times. Most of all, there is an appreciation for that very moment, whatever it may be.

Please know that the final resting spot or end isn’t a reference to the end of life or even the end of the year. Instead, it is referring to the closing of a chapter, a new beginning if you will. For me, this new chapter also calls in a new Earth Promise– a holistic, environmentally friendly task that I focus on implementing throughout the year. My Earth Promise is a bit different this year. It is grounded in the idea of sharing. More than a sharing of words, it is sharing the magic and medicine that represent those words. I intend to expand the sharing of ideas by inspiring others to focus on positive changes that benefit ourselves and Gaia. I firmly believe that our physical, mental, and spiritual health depends on the health of our planet. Perhaps this implies a little advocacy, but at the very least, awareness. I invite you to join me in this endeavor.

As we prepare to welcome spring, we notice the Earth is showing us little glimpses of the coming season. May the gardens you tend, in your mind and the soil, be a welcoming space of serenity with a bit of wildness. It’s time to cultivate the seeds of inspiration. I’ve planted a few of these seeds and they will be featured in upcoming posts as stories from the plants during the year of solitude.

Until then…

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