Today, some of us will come to the gardens of our hearts and find that some things have not grown.
Perhaps some relationships will still be contaminated with hierarchy or resentment, or perhaps some creative attempt will reveal itself to be unsatisfactory in this new day’s light. Or perhaps some aspect of business will remain problematic, some projects will not have been completed, or some clients will have made new complaints. Or perhaps we won’t have lost any weight, or there’ll be a news article about some new terror of health or environment or community, or perhaps there’ll just be a general feeling of despondency in the air of our hearts.
This is the way of life; the darkness and the light seem to arise and subside as our awarenesses waver.
If you find your garden in such a state today, have patience, dear heart. You have this natural desire for inner peace and illumination, and it will bloom in a million ways. Most will probably not look as you expect, yet they bear nourishing fruit nonetheless.
Begin again. Take the soil of your heart, where you will plant anew, and purge it of the toxins of fear and attachment. Leave nothing more than love and the desire for the Kingdom, and the soil will be holy.
Cradle the seed of your desire in your hands for a moment. Breathe out upon it, this little child of yours in the hands of your heart, so that it is warmed with the winds of your blessing. And then gently lay it in the ground, laying it to sleep and grow in this cleansed soil, tucking it into this earthen bed and covering it with prayers. Water it by sitting companionably with the seed of your desire for a while, and then work to prepare the way for its coming. Clear out any bushes of insecurity and grasping ego that may have grown nearby, and release any rocks of pain you’ve allowed to become lodged near this place in your inner garden.
Set the intention to come again and again. Every heart-seed needs nourishment with prayer, watering by your companionable sitting, and the cleansing of their little corners of your garden today – but also tomorrow, and always. These children of your heart need you to raise them up – to teach them to walk, to help them learn to run, to bear the fruits of your labors but further, to also take flight into the spacious skies of the collective mind.
Each day, begin again. Always have patience, dear heart. For it is in their season that things grow, not our own, yet for all that the majesty and wonder of God’s working is unequaled. The very fountain of love underlaying all things will inevitably erupt in brilliant glory through your chest. And then you too will have found your wings.