Soul Gardening

[Cara]

Are we Soul Gardening or Gardening the Soul?

I have always loved gardens - not so much the formal, strict kind, but more the soft, rambling type. I dream of gardens that sing of forest clearings, sheltered thickets, meandering meadows, and shining hillsides. I hope to create such a place one day.

This is a thread to pause, breathe and garden the soul.

https://mblogthumb-phinf.pstatic.net/20160721_122/pastelflower-_1469094832766nfy05_JPEG/10798029126_baee5eb492_b.jpg?type=w2

[Cara]

Peace and beauty from this lovely Japanese botanical garden.

WB6Sv-wIw5w

Tokyo Univercity botanical garden Nikko branch, Nikko city, Tochigi

[East Sun]

This beautiful Earth is beyond incredible, beyond words to describe it.

And we are destroying it.

That is what grieves me most in this life.

The reasons are beyond anything we collectively know.

So, we need to spread what we know far and wide...……..

ES

[Deega]

Beautiful, your spiritual objectives are awesome, great !

[Melinda]

Are we Soul Gardening or Gardening the Soul?

I have always loved gardens - not so much the formal, strict kind, but more the soft, rambling type. I dream of gardens that sing of forest clearings, sheltered thickets, meandering meadows, and shining hillsides. I hope to create such a place one day.

This is a thread to pause, breathe and garden the soul.


What a beautiful idea for a thread Cara – thank you :flower:

I dream too of my own garden. Somewhere to wrap my spirit around the foot of a tree, and fall asleep in the grasses. Dream with the earth. Plant my own seeds.

Some gardens seem to have a flow to them that’s somehow both balanced and wild. More alive than other gardens. I tend to think that some extra vitality is brought by the presence of nature spirits, which I feel is tangible; not an airy-fairy (no pun intended) indulgence of the mind.

I have a folder full of gardens I’ve gathered in my internet journeys, so thought to share a small selection here...

https://i.imgur.com/O9RWFKG.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/4FTqRcB.jpg

And this is a photo I took in Spring last year, down near the water in a park nearby...

https://i.imgur.com/xUaQiC4.jpg


It’s incredible to think that seeds contain the blueprint for life that can grow so tall and give so much. I always feel blessed when one of these gentle ones comes to visit me at home, indoors. Just the other day one of them followed me into the bathroom at night. It was like having a friend in my little abode. Today I found one in the entrance in my block, cupped it in my hands and took it with me outside to set it free again. I wonder where it went. Wherever it went it took its tender glow, its lightness of being... :

OtpHHrirAFY

[Cara]

...What a beautiful idea for a thread Cara – thank you :flower:

I dream too of my own garden. Somewhere to wrap my spirit around the foot of a tree, and fall asleep in the grasses. Dream with the earth. Plant my own seeds.

I feel as though I have just met a kindred spirit :flower:. You paint such a beautiful picture, thank you.


Some gardens seem to have a flow to them that’s somehow both balanced and wild. More alive than other gardens. I tend to think that some extra vitality is brought by the presence of nature spirits, which I feel is tangible; not an airy-fairy (no pun intended) indulgence of the mind.

Yes, it’s almost as though nature and the gardener become partners in creation. And then there is a shared “space” which is a gentle flowing of life.


I have a folder full of gardens I’ve gathered in my internet journeys, so thought to share a small selection here...

Thank you for sharing those wonderful pictures - especially the one you took :flower: - I do hope you will share more from your file.


It’s incredible to think that seeds contain the blueprint for life that can grow so tall and give so much. I always feel blessed when one of these gentle ones comes to visit me at home, indoors. Just the other day one of them followed me into the bathroom at night. It was like having a friend in my little abode. Today I found one in the entrance in my block, cupped it in my hands and took it with me outside to set it free again. I wonder where it went. Wherever it went it took its tender glow, its lightness of being... :

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=OtpHHrirAFY

Lovely video, thank you!

When I was a child, we used to walk down the road (a hillside) to the park at the bottom. There was a storm water stream at the bottom and the grass either side was full of what we called “puff-o-clocks” - we blew on them and the number of breaths was the “time” :sun:.

Now that I reflect on it, it might be a rather apt metaphor: children’s breath blowing the seeds of time into the wind.

[Melinda]

Thank you for sharing those wonderful pictures - especially the one you took :flower: - I do hope you will share more from your file.


When I was a child, we used to walk down the road (a hillside) to the park at the bottom. There was a storm water stream at the bottom and the grass either side was full of what we called “puff-o-clocks” - we blew on them and the number of breaths was the “time” :sun:.

Now that I reflect on it, it might be a rather apt metaphor: children’s breath blowing the seeds of time into the wind.


How lovely! Thanks for your sumptuous reply Cara.

What a beautiful story. “Puff-o-clocks” made me smile. When I cupped my hands around the seed yesterday I could feel them warming up with healing and happiness, and when I blew her away she actually floated back to me. It was tempting to invite her to stay but I gave her a breathy nudge in the hope she'd float to somewhere richer with green life. Possibly you cloaked the seeds with intent, whispered from your spirit. The seeds that became flowers may remember. In the Anastasia stories told by Vladimir Megre (whether you take them as truth, or just a true story of no-one in particular) if I recall - she speaks at one point of holding seeds beneath your tongue for a moment, before planting, to encode the plant with more awareness of you, so its relationship when it grows can be more attuned to you individually.

Below are a few more photos that I've taken.

These two are in a garden that I love to visit. In spring the lawn is blanketed with daisies, and I feel like I can feel their joy. An ocean of tiny people. Although I did PaintShop a butterfly in, as I caught the house owners' dog from behind and in fairness she may not think it's her best side :

https://i.imgur.com/RMi0Fhf.jpg


Just some juicy beauties I saw on my park travels :

https://i.imgur.com/fgDGU6a.jpg

These below I photographed indoors. My old flat was very small, with plants all over the living room. I'd place flowers in cups and little vases at different levels all around them, and there were always conversations going on. The plants would strike different poses like dancers, poised mid-swirl. The first pic below really tickles me, as it was only after taking it that I saw a song bird in the shadow.

https://i.imgur.com/hrq1yOr.jpg

[Cara]

... These two are in a garden that I love to visit. In spring the lawn is blanketed with daisies, and I feel like I can feel their joy. An ocean of tiny people. Although I did PaintShop a butterfly in, as I caught the house owners' dog from behind and in fairness she may not think it's her best side.
...
I'd place flowers in cups and little vases at different levels all around them, and there were always conversations going on. The plants would strike different poses like dancers, poised mid-swirl. The first pic below really tickles me, as it was only after taking it that I saw a song bird in the shadow.

Thank you Melinda - those fields of little white daisies are dreamy, I can see why it’s a favourite place to visit.

Another little story from my childhood is that my parents report that when I was about one, I used to sit on a lawn of daisies and eat them. I was a “flower child” (in the literal sense) from an early age it seems.

The roses are lovely too, with their soft velvety pink.

There is a fabulous Khoisan myth about the strelitzia flower being the frozen form of a too proud bird who annoyed the gods! It’s got all the usual elements of animal fables being lessons for life but has the unusual character of not being equivocal that things are worse the bird once it has been frozen as a flower.

Your flat sounds as though it was lovely, full of life and green and gentle light! I can just see the flowers dancing about through the day.

[Cara]

I wanted to respond separately to this part:


When I cupped my hands around the seed yesterday I could feel them warming up with healing and happiness, and when I blew her away she actually floated back to me. It was tempting to invite her to stay but I gave her a breathy nudge in the hope she'd float to somewhere richer with green life. Possibly you cloaked the seeds with intent, whispered from your spirit. The seeds that became flowers may remember.

It reminds me of the way that Machaelle Wright writes about gardens and plants in her project, Perelandra. She has a website full of information about working with plants on an energetic and spiritual level. It’s a whole different world: https://www.perelandra-ltd.com/

Here (https://www.perelandra-ltd.com/A-Garden-as-Defined-by-Nature-W71C735.aspx) she is writing about the different perspectives of people and nature to gardens:


...Humans tend to look at gardens as an expression of nature. Nature looks at gardens as an expression of humans. ...

https://i.pinimg.com/736x/22/49/eb/2249eb63f5f21bbcd78fe2cfaf110a9d--wildflowers-gardening.jpg

[Valerie Villars]

Stunning thread. Thank you Cara and Melinda.

[Cara]

One of my favourite sounds in the morning is hearing the birds begin their tweeting and chattering. When the light is still grey and quiet, the birds awake and begin their days. Even in the heat and desert conditions of Dubai we have some lovely birds that visit (doves, hoopoes, thrushes, mynas, little sparrows,...)

-3j5ZCpA5X0

[heretogrow]

This thread is pure joy for the mind, heart and soul! Thank you for your wonderful contributions and inspiration!

Much Love,
Julia

[Melinda]

Thank you Valerie and heretogrow . Lovely to see some other nature lovers.


Another little story from my childhood is that my parents report that when I was about one, I used to sit on a lawn of daisies and eat them. I was a “flower child” (in the literal sense) from an early age it seems.

I love the story. Sounds like you were a magical little person. I can picture your eyes lighting up at at all the delicate nourishments, while other kids were busy feasting on factory chocs and sugary bon bons.


There is a fabulous Khoisan myth about the strelitzia flower being the frozen form of a too proud bird who annoyed the gods! It’s got all the usual elements of animal fables being lessons for life but has the unusual character of not being equivocal that things are worse the bird once it has been frozen as a flower.

I looked up the myth. How epic. Perhaps that particular flower was reaching out to me to capture a wisp of its original spirit. They're an unusual flower. I was just looking them up and read that they represent freedom, joy and faithfulness. Also royalty. Which makes sense looking at the photo I posted. That little shadow bird looks quite regal with his proud little tuft at the tip of his head.

Thank you for the Machaelle Wright (Perelandra) link in Post #9. Wonderful pic you posted as well. I've stashed it away in my forests folder.

Below are a few more pics from my park travels.

The first two are of a busy bee. I got very close, and he didn't seem to mind, too busy bee-ing I suppose. Might have helped that I thanked him psychically for doing his bee business, and told him I wanted to take a good photo to share :

https://i.imgur.com/BzOF0GF.jpg


This is a magnificent tree opening I stumbled across. And below it is a PaintShop version I made for a photo book for my young niece years ago, with text about the adventures of Nature Spirits. Apparently my niece connected with the book. I'm hoping it assisted her awakening, to appreciate the wild :

https://i.imgur.com/G0563Pm.jpg

This next one reminds me of how stunning the park was the day I took this. Everything glowing with a warm, golden aura. On the cusp of summer and autumn :

https://i.imgur.com/KlUCjVq.jpg

A winter visitor :

https://i.imgur.com/hE6ZjK0.jpg

I once felt guided to a place in the park where I came across a dying crow. I lay down to pray and watch over her as she passed over. At the moment of her passing, dozens and dozens of crows came flying in from all around, filling the air with their calls. A few of them seemed to be suspicious, asking why I was there. The next day I was visited by several of them who came calling and swooping outside my window. I felt they were acknowledging me, and letting me know they knew why I'd been there. If I'm lucky they still call to me sometimes. When I've followed them into the park I've always been glad that I did.

This next one is a favourite, since I photographed the scene on Valentines day, and it appears to me like a heart with a Cupid's arrow :

https://i.imgur.com/XVLmPfW.jpg

Recently I was meditating down by the lake where the swans are and this spectacular blue dragonfly came gliding in front of me, and then seemed to vanish into thin air. They're so speedy those creatures. I also met a tiny yellow butterfly. Looked like a buttercup that had taken flight.

The park is alive with all kinds of wonderful stories. Furry people. And silky beings.

Some day I may just make it to the fairy pools in the Isle of Skye, or James Gilliland's ranch. I gather nature spirits abound at the latter.

What can you say? Flowers, plants and divine tree beings just make life better. Deeper, and richer. The flowers and seeds are like the purest spirits. The oldest of trees like ancient sages. All a part of this unfathomably beautiful planet. Tugs at my heart sometimes. When I think of the sheer variety of life - how we are only one specie among millions here.

[Cara]

Melinda, your lovely post has me meandering through Japanese swan paintings, flowers that look like swans, memories of trees, and all manner of beautiful things. Thank you!

I will share when I come to a good place to pause :flower:

For now, Ralph Waldo Emerson:

Nature always wears the colours of the spirit

http://pre09.deviantart.net/ffab/th/pre/i/2012/116/b/b/nature_always_wears_the_colors_of_the_spirit_by_bluecoloursofnature-d4xnhul.jpg

[amor]

I feel that the creator meant for us to Garden and Joy in the creation of animals and plants and to not create pain for any living thing. Instead we are enslaved in a system that owns our time and energy and forces us to go where we should not. People should be growing individual gardens of beauty and food instead of being Rolling Stones that Gather No Moss.

[Cara]

So, the beautiful photos that Melinda shared above sent me on a wonderful ramble.

I was particularly entranced by the Valentine's Day photo of the swans :heart:. A precious moment, a signal from nature, that love is everywhere present.

In my meanderings, I found some simply lovely flowers. Their petals and colours are so evocative of swans - their elegance, their grace, and their stillness.

Swans in conversation
http://instudio.mabangapp.com/img/023/JS0699/JS0699g07.jpg

The Wild Swans at Coole
BY WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS

The trees are in their autumn beauty,
The woodland paths are dry,
Under the October twilight the water
Mirrors a still sky;
Upon the brimming water among the stones
Are nine-and-fifty swans.

The nineteenth autumn has come upon me
Since I first made my count;
I saw, before I had well finished,
All suddenly mount
And scatter wheeling in great broken rings
Upon their clamorous wings.

I have looked upon those brilliant creatures,
And now my heart is sore.
All's changed since I, hearing at twilight,
The first time on this shore,
The bell-beat of their wings above my head,
Trod with a lighter tread.

Unwearied still, lover by lover,
They paddle in the cold
Companionable streams or climb the air;
Their hearts have not grown old;
Passion or conquest, wander where they will,
Attend upon them still.

But now they drift on the still water,
Mysterious, beautiful;
Among what rushes will they build,
By what lake's edge or pool
Delight men's eyes when I awake some day
To find they have flown away?


Swans in flight
https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3280/2735454154_786793ac7e_z.jpg

Winter Swans
by Owen Sheers

The clouds had given their all -
two days of rain and then a break
in which we walked,

the waterlogged earth
gulping for breath at our feet
as we skirted the lake, silent and apart,

until the swans came and stopped us
with a show of tipping in unison.
As if rolling weights down their bodies to their heads

they halved themselves in the dark water,
icebergs of white feather, paused before returning again
like boats righting in rough weather.

'They mate for life' you said as they left,
porcelain over the stilling water. I didn't reply
but as we moved on through the afternoon light,

slow-stepping in the lake's shingle and sand,
I noticed our hands, that had, somehow,
swum the distance between us

and folded, one over the other,
like a pair of wings settling after flight.


Swan who wear their hearts on their chests
http://pre03.deviantart.net/992a/th/pre/i/2011/296/5/9/flower_swan_by_kristincross-d4doafp.jpg

[Cara]

...I once felt guided to a place in the park where I came across a dying crow. I lay down to pray and watch over her as she passed over. At the moment of her passing, dozens and dozens of crows came flying in from all around, filling the air with their calls. A few of them seemed to be suspicious, asking why I was there. The next day I was visited by several of them who came calling and swooping outside my window. I felt they were acknowledging me, and letting me know they knew why I'd been there. If I'm lucky they still call to me sometimes. When I've followed them into the park I've always been glad that I did.

Melinda, this is so special and wonderful, your communing with the birds... and the park... and the sky :heart:.

Thank you for sharing it. :flower: You gifted a dying bird with love and care. I hope it carries those gifts close wherever it may travel. Perhaps the other crows know?


~~~

A garden poem that I wrote seems appropriate here - I imagined this particular old man in his garden when I wrote it.


Slow

Slow is the old man come cane-walking by
as his memories parade softly behind
the penetrating gaze of certain, blue
eyes.

Slow is the dripping of the cast-brass tap
as its thread wears away under pressure
of time, water, and the caress of
hands.

Slow is the fading of blue from his shirt
as it wanes with the growth of moss on bricks
made into walls, for having and holding
her.

[Cara]

On and off I have been reading a little about Ancient Hellenic and Roman mythology. I came across a charming myth about a water nymph, Egeria. There is a spring near Rome dedicated to her:

https://www.istantidibellezza.it/files/03_ninfeo_2.JPG

Here is a little story about the spring and Egeria herself (it’s in Italian-English, so a little eccentric):


Considered holy since ancient times, the Egeria Spring is located in one of the most evocative areas of the Roman countryside, the Caffarella Valley. Known also as Fonte delle Camene or Fonte dell’Acqua Santa, the spring remained hidden for many years inside a grotto, protected by the neighbouring Sacred Groves.

The Nymphaeum of Egeria was built later, around the second century AD. Rising in the vicinity of the spring and dedicated to the cult of the nymph, it appears today as a sort of niche, once lined in white marble, its large vault covered with mosaics.

...

Protector of childbirth and fertility, the wise and beautiful Egeria was venerated along with the Camenae, the goddesses of spring water.

It is told that Numa Pompilius, the second King of Rome, had secretly fallen in love with her, and went every night to the Sacred Groves to meet her.

Thanks to Egeria’s spiritual guidance and her divinatory rites, the king was able to keep his people out of war, promulgate fair laws, and implement early Rome’s political and religious reform.

Upon the death of her beloved, the nymph, in her sorrow, melted into tears. Taking pity on her inconsolable weeping, the goddess Diana transformed her into a spring. The source then became a place of worship sacred to Romans for many centuries thereafter. From: https://www.egeria.it/en/the-water-source/#contenuto1

In the 1800s, German painter Frank Ludwig Castel painted the scene, The Grove of Egeria:

https://www.1st-art-gallery.com/thumbnail/131000/131171/painting_page_800x/Catel/The-Grove-Of-Egeria.jpg?ts=1459229076

~~~

I like to think that Egeria is still there, at the spring, bubbling her wisdom into the water :flower:

[Cara]

A moment

Cherry blossoms
and other blooms
decorate the mind
with colour,
the heart with peace.

Petals flutter
their flickering
wings into the light,
breathing in
the cool spring air.

~~~

mdPgp2pyshQ

"Heaven on earth", is a good way to describe the Haradani-en Garden. Haradani-en, located in Northern Kyoto, is a privately owned garden that is a host to beautiful cherry blossoms. The garden has 20 different types of sakura and over 400 trees. Enjoy!

[Cara]

And the garden, still beautiful in its solitude, remains ....

http://exploringnjandpa.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/view-of-some-of-the-area-1.jpg


This poem from Elizabeth Barrett Browning seems apt.


The Deserted Garden

I mind me in the days departed,
How often underneath the sun
With childish bounds I used to run
To a garden long deserted.

The beds and walks were vanished quite;
And wheresoe'er had struck the spade,
The greenest grasses Nature laid
To sanctify her right.

I called the place my wilderness,
For no one entered there but I;
The sheep looked in, the grass to espy,
And passed it ne'ertheless.

The trees were interwoven wild,
And spread their boughs enough about
To keep both sheep and shepherd out,
But not a happy child.

Adventurous joy it was for me!
I crept beneath the boughs, and found
A circle smooth of mossy ground
Beneath a poplar tree.

Old garden rose-trees hedged it in,
Bedropt with roses waxen-white
Well satisfied with dew and light
And careless to be seen.

Long years ago it might befall,
When all the garden flowers were trim,
The grave old gardener prided him
On these the most of all.

Some lady, stately overmuch,
Here moving with a silken noise,
Has blushed beside them at the voice
That likened her to such.

And these, to make a diadem,
She often may have plucked and twined,
Half-smiling as it came to mind
That few would look at them.

Oh, little thought that lady proud,
A child would watch her fair white rose,
When buried lay her whiter brows,
And silk was changed for shroud!

Nor thought that gardener, (full of scorns
For men unlearned and simple phrase,)
A child would bring it all its praise
By creeping through the thorns!

To me upon my low moss seat,
Though never a dream the roses sent
Of science or love's compliment,
I ween they smelt as sweet.

It did not move my grief to see
The trace of human step departed:
Because the garden was deserted,
The blither place for me!

Friends, blame me not! a narrow ken
Has childhood 'twixt the sun and sward;
We draw the moral afterward,
We feel the gladness then.

And gladdest hours for me did glide
In silence at the rose-tree wall:
A thrush made gladness musical
Upon the other side.

Nor he nor I did e'er incline
To peck or pluck the blossoms white;
How should I know but roses might
Lead lives as glad as mine?

To make my hermit-home complete,
I brought dear water from the spring
Praised in its own low murmuring,
And cresses glossy wet.

And so, I thought, my likeness grew
(Without the melancholy tale)
To 'Gentle Hermit of the Dale,'
And Angelina too.

For oft I read within my nook
Such minstrel stories; till the breeze
Made sounds poetic in the trees,
And then I shut the book.

If I shut this wherein I write
I hear no more the wind athwart
Those trees, nor feel that childish heart
Delighting in delight.

My childhood from my life is parted,
My footstep from the moss which drew
Its fairy circle round: anew
The garden is deserted.

Another thrush may there rehearse
The madrigals which sweetest are;
No more for me! myself afar
Do sing a sadder verse.

Ah me, ah me! when erst I lay
In that child's-nest so greenly wrought,
I laughed unto myself and thought
'The time will pass away.'

And still I laughed, and did not fear
But that, whene'er was past away
The childish time, some happier play
My womanhood would cheer.

I knew the time would pass away,
And yet, beside the rose-tree wall,
Dear God, how seldom, if at all,
Did I look up to pray!

The time is past; and now that grows
The cypress high among the trees,
And I behold white sepulchres
As well as the white rose, --

When graver, meeker thoughts are given,
And I have learnt to lift my face,
Reminded how earth's greenest place
The color draws from heaven, --

It something saith for earthly pain,
But more for Heavenly promise free,
That I who was, would shrink to be
That happy child again.

[Anka]

The journey in the soul of a flower

Home, means the right to say,
"I'm fine today!"

The unique, creative and beautiful show lies in the significance of the soul landscape of this planet's garden.

https://external-content.duckduckgo.com/iu/?u=https%3A%2F%2Ftse1.mm.bing.net%2Fth%3Fid%3DOIP.zBOwl3O_PfaZ82OaPK0FJAHaFj%26pid%3DApi&f=1

The freedom of a flower to explore the world in colorful petals of promise, being ready to be sufficient for its path blooming in the sun and growing in rain-blessed drops, always inspires us in mystical contemplation and deep experience in the unique power to open ourselves, for our soul in the face of life's trials.

A flower always remains a miracle to listen, its root always bears fruit but also considers its reward for the Earth.

https://external-content.duckduckgo.com/iu/?u=https%3A%2F%2Ftse4.mm.bing.net%2Fth%3Fid%3DOIP.v7ygkNIniQJX_u2Nhr3CgwAAAA%26pid%3DApi&f=1

The modesty of a flower with which she presents herself to the world and especially her pious way of life as art, sets the tone for beauty in a single sigh of our heart, a sigh that embodies billions of prayers for the beauty of life.

If we transpose this self-satisfaction of a simple flower in the care for the beauty of our soul, meditating beside it, reading in the mirror of its petals the gratitude and the voice of its heart, reading humility and joy in the spark of good thought, taking root with its feelings, I think we can save the happiest way of life for billions of souls, at least for a second.

The reunion of each answer in the passion of life, lies in the guidance of a heart acquired through serenity and gentleness, small things bring us the satisfaction of always doing good, our beauty is when we can always stand upright and towering in a gentle wind of continuous change.

We are travelers with the thought as we grow in place, we grow the essence of our seed from the earth as we travel in the sap of the meaning of flourishing for a time that belongs to us, the time within us.

https://i.pinimg.com/236x/f8/75/f9/f875f9734a18dd0a2b39a8f9c5fe29d6.jpg

The whole stillness of the flower's silence, speaks in its beauty, sings through its perfume, heals through its properties, always offers by enriching others.
A flower generates respect and acceptance towards other flowers and towards the environment, through a permanently affective state of empathy and dedication in an essence of always fair connection and in discernment of pleasant emotional clarity, a whole comfort for acceptance in itself.

If you look for the legacy in the garden of your soul, you will find it in the first flower you meet, if you look for the magnificent moment that represents your life in the character of the origin of your soul, you will find it when you wake up in full act of life and hear yourself say : "Per Angusta Ad Augusta!"

'If you have a garden and a library, you have everything you need" Marcus Tullius Cicero

https://external-content.duckduckgo.com/iu/?u=https%3A%2F%2Ftse4.mm.bing.net%2Fth%3Fid%3DOIP.Ggx75UzsVwtrcbwDEtzvCAHaFj%26pid%3DApi&f=1


If you look for the ode to your soul, you will find it only in the frontispiece of the flowering of others, if you search for nature in your soul, you will find that Nature has been looking for you for a long time through eternity in full will of inheritance.

The sacredness of a performance of rendering a simple beauty is transformed today into something too pompous and the celebration of simplicity in its natural character, was also transformed into something too pretentious for all our understanding, maybe, and almost certainly, that we do not always manage to understand all with a dogma.

When you reach for a flower, it trembles slightly, responding in full emotional vitality, the confluence between the reality of its existence and the healing power to make us happy, it is built during the act, you can appreciate this in the simplest values you find on time.
An entire plant universe supports the origin of every pure feeling of infinity in the unfolding of the love wings of a single flower, imagine this in all the enchanted beauty of this wonderful planet!
The inspiration to plant a seed rewards our boundless culture of life, adorns the garden of our soul in a continuous search and experience of beauty, gives us the heritage of a deep state of love in full effect and grace of simplicity.

Summer Wildflowers Bouquet - 4K Flower Scenery with Nature Sounds (2:30)

XMOkKGTFe_Y

Is soul the stem and
body the blossom —
or body our stem, with
soul its indigenous bloom?
~Terri Guillemets

:heart:
Anca

[Anka]

The recipe of a tree

The details capture the essence of life, if we understand what is most important for today in the sphere of our soul. The minutes of our good thoughts germinate in the crystal leaves of the best expectations for this wonderful planet.
The bedding in the fields of flourishing hopes always germinates the mystery of the sun's rays of full fascination within balance in the heart of the planet, it will embrace us in golden horizons in which dreams will be the delicate echo of our petal words.

We gather words carefully, in the specter of the delicate longing to feel the breath of the wind in our heartbeat, to taste the clouds just to dew ourselves over fields of hot green life, and to spread the curtain of stars over the oceanic aquarium of the world.We are nature :flower:
A smile of ours has the power to rise with the Sun, a dream swings our soul in the corners of the bright moon, a word gives us courage in the color of existence and the soul fulfills them in its planting of living particles of seeds.

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In the fine bright and white root, beyond the story of each trunk, the white marble of the last glow that burns in examples of life, performs the miracle of transcendence in streams of eternal genesis, is only the picture of life in the cosmic art gallery beyond the artifices of happiness, in full act plasma porcelain creation.

We seem to be always waiting for the equinox of our awakening, in the middle of the parental garden of our soul.
We tremble in oblivion in the heart of a stone sheepfold whose deeds we have already done throughout our solid construction, we raise castles and corridors in the center of the earth to find out the vitality of the external evidence, we fraternize with waiting in bright limestone constructions only to look with sapphire eyes at the diamond snow of knowledge as it sits lightly on our shoulders.

But the golden sand that flows in the immensity of our consistency, plunges us through the hourglass of life using time as a counting of words, always picking the lasting flowers of the ocean that has not passed through the garden of the universe.

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A great tree that stretches its arms towards the universe, speaks in golden letters through poems of souls in a single verse, and we read among its branches, while the roots expand wide areas of connection.
In the blue eyes of the labyrinth of the universe, in the elegance of movement, we acquired our birth as a diamond of abilities in consecrating the last journey always, but in the gentleness and scent of a winter morning we count the ice flowers on our garden window, we move slowly with the thought on the soul alleys from the garden, in the impossibly fascinating monotony of curiosity. Just to find out.:flower:

A rain of frequent voices, gravitates the silence moving it out of place, and in the roar of the deafening vibration of the world, we find peace and light it with an abstract torch somewhere in the middle of the path.
Inside, paying for a truth only through courage, we think contentedly that we have kept the seeds in our souls for the spring of freedom in a new beginning. The apparent continuity goes beyond the resistance of the doors in the splendor of any storm, in waves of bravery of the trireme of almost conquered destiny.

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A magnetic sleep leads us steps in the lucidity of a continuous dream of waking up and the mirror behind the garden weaves the visual art into a knot of truth that we assimilate like a simple flower scent.:flower:
Beyond the nullity of the strings related to our own illusions that we have cultivated with care for too long, the garden revolves around its own axis of magnificent reality.

In perfect memories, we sometimes feel like tourists from elsewhere in the garden of knowledge we cultivate.
A stopwatch of birds flying elegantly above us in a circle, slipping at a time when the invitation is eternal bring the tree in front of us when it opens his doors, and we blindfold ourselves trying to catch time in a kind of future that is too long.
The tree closes its doors in silence, and from above it detaches from the branches in the sound of lightning, the gift of an enormous seed that falls directly to the epicenter of our wisdom, where we receive the recipe of life in symbols of elements that belong to us. The seed of a single smile.

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In the full emotion of a carousel of cold air we wake up in the form of an ample survival, we get lost among the colors asking for hugs from another time moving towards glass walls that slowly crack in the fog, the words are no longer heard, when, from our hand falls the torch of silence in the tunnel of the light of knowledge, we skillfully step in the flight to the half-open eyelashes of time, the time of awakening, and finally, we smile consciously during the static journey, on a bench in the middle of the garden.

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The carousel of awakening finds our fragile soul as a landmark on the garden map,
the theorems in the court of life no longer matter, the images in the whole picture are colorless in specular facts created from molecular equations from the nuclear wax reaction of a mind.
When we seem to know everything, we do not possess anything, when we think we possess the whole of creation, we know absolutely nothing.

https://i.postimg.cc/1Rgd37yB/download.jpg

In the vegetable world everything is superlative, nothing is old and everything is equal now, in the neurotropic pharmacy of life of Nature, when we drink the tincture of transformation in rhythm with existence, we find ourselves as gardeners of an entire universe.

[Zirconian]

Love this thread :heart::flower:
Enchanting, joyous, uplifting.
Thanks to all contributors.
Reading all the posts was a great way to start my morning. :flower:

[Anka]

We always hear the saying "garden of my soul".

If we are close enough to nature and have often fallen asleep in the shade of a tree in the arms of nature, then we know that this expression is a constant prayer for the depth and protection of Mother Nature.
The garden as a symbol of a flower is the most beautiful experience that brings us the peace, love and comfort of seeing life in its wonderful simplicity.

The unhindered gift with which the plants near our house offer us happiness, lies in the ancient presence of nature that develops the treasures of our soul only by observing their beauty.

The beauty of a flowering tree brings us so many similarities to the variety of good things we have experienced in our lives. Often, looking at a flowering tree, we remember that how many flowering flowers it has in all its amplitude, as well as so many flowers also pleasant experiences in our lives… and we are amazed, contemplating the beauty of the flowers in the wonderful memories. :flower:

Every pleasant memory has its intensity of perfume, its manifestation in opening its petals to the happiness of existing and especially the fruit of the flower of each memory, the sweetness of a fruit in the gratitude that we offered everything for every detail of life.
Whenever the petals of the memories of a single flower, from the formidable variety of life experiences, come off easily and fall in favor of the fruit that must grow, we understand the need for the fruit without forgetting how beautiful its flower was.

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Knowledge in one fruit is at our fingertips.
If we choose to take it from the tree before it ripens, we will have half a way to feel the sweetness and juice of his life and wisdom, and we will be left with an endless story about the beginning of an acquaintance.

If we choose to take the fruit from the tree when we consider it ripe, we may be left with the perfection we have chosen in the taste for knowledge,
and this ensures the need to "want more" in nominating a plan to plant more trees.

The expression in which you say that you cannot blame a fruit for its consistency and fiber, just as you cannot blame the seed of a tree for not offering fruit directly, is well known.
If you look at a flowering tree long enough to see its appearance differently every time, you can see that the tree is alive and talking to you. He needs your care and interest in his favorable condition.

If we have enough patience to be able to observe every day a slight change of shade in the color of the fruit as the fruit in its autonomy ripens itself in the sun, with juice from the sap of the tree roots, swinging in the wind and rain,
growing under a sky of stars lit in the moonlight and in the wonderful gravity of the earth that supports it… if we can be patient that the fruit ripens long enough for him alone to decide that the time has come for us to taste it, we must be careful and catch him when he falls alone from the tree, so as not to get hurt in the fall of gravity's love for the earth.

Only then a fruit that endured the beautiful weather and the storms and the lack of water and drowning in too much rain, and escaped unscathed from all these, that is a fruit of hope for a more perfect nature that makes our heart and soul happy.

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A tree soul, in the fruit of the connections of life in an entire universe, sweetens our soul as gardeners of this planet. Let's taste it properly.

Just as the flowers, so small and sensitive of a tree, close their petals at night to feel protected, so do we humans in our dreams need protection.
We are so vulnerable in our sensitivity that we sometimes breathe only through the presence of Nature that swings us in the effect of life.
The garden of our soul is the infinite temple in the heart of Nature and nature in any structure that surrounds us is blooming, but every gardener of existence knows this.
We are all gardeners of this world, we can plant a good deed every day and have patience to wait for its fruits, because often the fruit endures patience and not the other way around, that's why we love it so much.

If we have a garden near us, the similarities of a plant's life are the same with the whole life character of a being. In the middle of nature we feel like wonderful beings. When you say living being, you say Nature, when you say Nature, you see all living beings trembled with joy.:flower:

In the life of a stone is embroidered the efficiency of each quote about Nature, in the flow of a river flows the continuity of the wisdom of nature, and in the flowering of a flower lies the success of Nature as evidence of the sanctuary in our soul, every day.

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Talk to a flower today and she will never forget you, offer the fruit from your garden to those who need it most and feel the sweetness of a good deed, greet the mountains in the distance by bowing to their endurance and beauty, drink from the spring behind your garden in every morning, from the information of Nature in its essence, and live in the spirit of water and feel with it, because you are also water, look up at the sky, in the middle of your garden and catch in your hands the warmth of the sun's rays blessing its light,
enjoy the pleasant coolness of the starry sky in the resonance of light and vibration of colors from the garden of your soul,
honor life by closing your eyes to catch the side of your soul, all are here with you, be grateful, but more than that, be happy for this!

You own the garden of life!:heart:

Anca

[Zirconian]

Sometimes in the woods you see a nature spirit......

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His face is above the crystal ball.

Other-times you spot a magic tree......

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Then you find you can enter inside the tree. Realise it still has a consciousness, even though it is hollow and just marvel at the energy.

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Sometimes .....you find there is more energy away from a famous spiritual site......in a garden called Chalice Wells.

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And a tree has more energy than the Tor

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Image of the Holy Thorn Tree

:heart::flower:

[Anka]

In the garden of our soul, in the middle of the altar of life, we must make time to walk, we must admire a leaf, a flower, a butterfly, a rainbow born from a tear and a ray of sunshine.
Surely we have done this at least once in our lives.

There we find the cobbled paths from us and towards us, there, the light is unique, unmistakable and in continuous transformation.
We find ourselves in the unique space of reflection, where we plant the seeds of wisdom in a pure white blanket of snow and wait for spring to rediscover the feeling of love rising from blue flowers in the infinity of the sky, deep in the buds of our hopes.

It is good not to stir up the earth of a tried soul,
but to honor him with confidence and rains of joy, to beautify him, root by root in the courage chosen to always plant other seeds of love.:flower:

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Every day we must plant a seedling of prayer and a seed of friendship, then wait for it to grow beyond the expectations of those who gave us the opportunity. Sometimes we expose our flowers, from the garden of our soul, sometimes others throw weed seeds on them, but we also find utility in weeds, because beauty nourishes our soul and essence nourishes our matter.

Beauty is to be shared with other gardeners, diligence is done to give it to Nature. Nothing can ennoble our belonging to this planet more than the love that is flourishing in the garden of our soul.

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“Happiness held is the seed; Happiness shared is the flower.”John Harrigan

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"The violets in the mountains shattered the rocks."Tennessee Williams

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[Anka]

Living in Nature is truly a completely formative experience just being always close to it.
Living in the heart of nature is for me a whole ability, a kind of immensity of information in the quality of its contemplation. It is always more than we can see, and that comes only from contemplating its beauty which is absolutely everything we need to know.

My only clue about what makes me more grounded in the almost universal resolution of nature, is the joy that it exists, it is what wakes me up in the morning. Once you live close to nature, I think there is no other escape than to cherish it every day more.
Here where I live I feel that nature really has a benevolent force, a synergy that I have often felt that belongs to all living beings, including human beings.

When I am in nature, I feel that it enriches me to experience a kind of maximum potential to be with her, something that is reflected in all my subsequent actions, as if I could always find myself through her. It is an experience, pleasant, but it needs the quality to spend more time close to nature.

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The fact that I take a walk in nature, to see for example small wild mushrooms, to take a handful of black forest soil, which smells incredibly beautiful, something automatically connects in me, something that absorbs the performance of my well-being, somehow by itself.
I gave up wall clocks, because their ticking took away the beauty of the sound of crickets at night, and having nothing to measure time "from the eyes" at day, I look instead at the open window to the fresh air, somewhere between the beauty of the sky and the air between me and the blue.
The beauty of nature must be more than a relaxing aesthetic connection, it is an emotional connection in which the heart stops beating to hear our amazement in the full acceptance of Nature, being convinced that Nature is more than we can see.:heart:
It is an unplugged performance connected to the fine and subtle acoustics of life itself, a kind of passion, adventure and humanity if you look closely.:flower: :heart: :flower:

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Nature is not only a connection between us and her, it is a connection of wide spaces of connections in an interaction and realization at the same time as by immersion and living in its environment, we are almost part of a kind of a broad consciousness.
Something to which we can always reconnect, a balanced balance with the source itself, just when we realize how small we are in the widest, most vast space in which our authenticity can have no equivalent but with the Nature in which we are, then is a sweet surrender finding us clearly in our own existence, wanting for us to know the world even more in the most beautiful way.

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If I find a beautiful stone that catches my eye, I take it with me and take it to another place of Nature, as if I wanted to be able to offer Nature its own beauty, in order to be able to thank her.
The quality of my life and my health has improved considerably from the moment I understood that I had to take the small things more slowly and understand the big situations in a broader sense, Nature gave me the chance to give myself the opportunity and the favor of being much gentler with me, but I still have to learn, so I'm glad I can still enjoy the beauty of Nature.:sun:
Our lives must be lived in sync with nature, a nostalgia for pure art in the full act of one reality.:heart:

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Choosing the Country Life - a bit about me(6:40)

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[Zirconian]

If you can visit Kew, your soul will feel very happy. :flower:


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=khOfA1JhLyg

Kew, the area in which Kew Gardens are situated, consists mainly of the gardens themselves and a small surrounding community. Royal residences in the area which would later influence the layout and construction of the gardens began in 1299 when Edward I moved his court to a manor house in neighbouring Richmond. That manor house was later abandoned; however, Henry VII built Sheen Palace in 1501, which, under the name Richmond Palace, became a permanent royal residence for Henry VII.

[Trisher]

Beautiful places in the world that bring wonder and joy to the beholder. Each moment is open and holds connection to all that is. Merging with that moment reminds us of the deeper connection and brings us home.

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Trisher :flower:

[Bill Ryan]

Not a human garden. But maybe someone else's. :)

This is the Atacama desert, Earth's driest region, after a super-rare rainfall in August 2017.

http://www.dailymagazine.news/news-images/275c945d0db0a8083b2c53d0efa5de9e-690-460-Y.jpg

[Lunesoleil]

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Chrisantheme that I watered all year round with love

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A butterfly on a bouquet of lavender

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Lilac blooming from my balcony

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A hollyhock, normally it does not flower in a planter

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Dried flowers of Bayet in the Allier department of France

:flower: :flower: :flower: :flower: :flower: