Tag Archives: metaphor



I’ve planted my Spring Garden. This year, I may not get a summer garden, as the retaining wall between my house & my neighbors’ needs to be replaced. That means the location of my current garden will be unavailable to me come July.

That’s OK though. I can always plant in a container. In fact, I plan to put some tomato plants in a container here in the next couple of weeks. See, that’s one of the things I love about gardening: plants will grow pretty much regardless of what you do or don’t do. Once the soil is prepared and the seedlings planted, there isn’t a lot more for me to do.

Keep an eye on them to make sure they aren’t being “pestered” by bugs. Water (when there isn’t enough rain!) Pull a few weeds here and there so they don’t get crowded out. And then, harvest. Lovely little baby lettuce leaves, arugula and those tomatoes will make a nice salad.

Couldn’t my life be this way? Like a garden? No garden responds well to “over-doing”. If I water more than is necessary, the plants could drown. If I constantly handled the plants to make sure they were OK, the leaves would get bruised and the fruit could fall off prematurely. But I find myself “over-doing” my life sometimes.

Over-analyzing. Worrying too much. Building up big expectations, only to be disappointed at the outcome and myself. Living in the dreamworld of “what if’s” rather than with my feet solidly planted in the soil of the here and now.

My garden has incredible resiliency. And it doesn’t take a whole heck of a lot of worry or coddling or fear-driven thinking to grow. In fact, pretty much none. I noticed that one of my baby lettuces had been uprooted the other day. I paused for a moment thinking, “should I just toss it? It probably won’t survive.” But, I took the risk of putting it back into the ground. The next day, it looked as though it had never been uprooted: perky green leaves greeted me when I checked.

How many times have I given up on something – or on myself—when all I really needed was to get grounded again, to trust that my roots will nourish me? The garden takes very little worry – what it does require is trust. Trust in the power of Nature.

I make this commitment to myself: I trust that what I need will be there for me; that, like my garden, I can stay rooted in my sense of self and know that nourishment is available if I seek it. I trust that I will continue to grow.

Could your life be like a garden?