Thursday, June 27, 2013
One last week working in this therapeutic garden.
If a garden could tell a story..... High above Kawa Bay on the misty slopes of Mauna Loa lies the garden with a sweeping view of mountains and sea known as Nalu. Nalu means wave and embodies going with the flow. This is a place where people are sent to sit with their thoughts, reflect and grow plants. I have spent years on these grounds working: weeding, planting, watering, harvesting, thinking, and the most important job: listening. Listening to the sad stories being told.
I feel as if a big part of myself breathes within the soil and hovers with the hanging clouds above. This is a garden where dreams are planted and watered with tears.
Harvest will be many years away. We are just living the struggle to keep the weeds at bay and the soil vibrant. Magic blossoms every so often in the soil laden with hope, redemption, angst and fear.
The clouds of last chances and empty promises blow over carried by the gentle trade winds. These plants been serenaded by it all: crying, shouting, struggles and breakthroughs, motivation lost and found. Soil and thoughts are sifted and maybe if done for long enough you will find a little piece of awakening; feeling loved by the most important person: yourself. Sometimes it is just as simple as planting a seed and remembering to water it.
As the saying goes:
chop wood, carry water
Chop wood carry water.”
Blessed are the drowned
Who walk with the willows and
Sing their songs in the shadows
Those sinking souls who
Surrendered it all
Throwing their hands to the sky
Becoming the paint, laughing at the painter
Living in the currents and becoming the
Pattern to the chaos.
Existing in twilight, drowning in
The light of dark
I am drowned