Today was a breakthrough day for me. A gorgeous June day with a breeze that lifted your spirit upwards. So I went out to the backyard and I gardened. Not a big deal to anyone else but a huge deal to me. I haven’t allowed myself to garden in a long time. And this decision has just left me feeling hopeless. For years.
The cause has been so many things, but mostly, I gave up. Fear of not doing it well enough or not having the talent, time, money, or whatever other lie fear will tell you and “see ya’ later” soul gratifying thing. I then slipped into a hopelessness cloud for which I have found no escape. That is until today when I walked outside and began again.
By far the cruelest thing our fear brain does to us while it’s trying to keep us safe, is to rob us of hope. Hope is the breeze on which we fly to the future. But our fear brains think that to keep us safe from harm, they must keep us away from anything that may change us or our lives. Change is bad and hope insinuates change. So therefore, hope is out.
To rob a person of their hope is to give them a living walking death sentence. Without hope, you are just a zombie going through the motions. This is the cruelest of sentences to pass on someone especially yourself and yet, many are the years when I have felt the hopelessness spread over months without a reprieve.
And yet, the smallest spark can be made from a word or a comment or a thought that you “could”. And then the dimmest light of hope is lit inside for an outcome that is different. A craving for a change and the way that might impact your life in even the smallest way. A hope for unity and purpose. A hope for quieting the chaos and for connection and calm.
And it all starts with pulling a few weeds and moving a few worms.
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2 Comments
Gardening for me isn’t really about the end result. Gardens are never perfect. They are organic and evolving – a constant discovery of what will thrive where. I suppose not unlike our own life journeys as we try out new things to see where we will bloom.
And what if you denied yourself and your garden a chance and just watched it and your neglect of its potential. That’s what my metaphor and reality has been Mala. I used to love it. Somehow I lost my magic there. My now 5 year old had a little to do with it. But some other dark cloud descended.