When I step from beyond the bounds of my home and into the sun’s care every day, I am greeted with a transitionary moment between the world inside and the world outside. Between humankind’s electrically-generated light and the living rays of the sun. Between the humming of wattage and the buzzing of bees. Between the screen of my computer and the movement of leaves. Between ceilings of white and skies with floating cotton and crazy animal shapes.
The tête-à-têtes of sparrows fills my ears; their little bird wings flit about the hakea and bottle brush trees full delight. Silent butterfly ballets grace the stage of mauve lavenders, pink daisies, and purple salvias, and the raucous squawkery of showy white sulphur-crested cockatoos punctuate my peace with their off-beat sounds of mischief and sense of adventure.
I reflect on all of the activity taking place in my garden: “The leaves really do move as though they are clapping their hands. The She Oak sings and sways in response to gentle breezes. There is movement in the pond where the fish zip back and forth, and somewhere off in the distance a kookaburra laughs about the rain that is coming from a distant place.”
There is something ‘safe’ about nature continuing to live as it usually does, regardless of the times or seasons it encounters. The sun continues to rise and fall. Trees continue to reach for the sky. Rain continues to water every thing in the ground. Crickets continue to sing, and the random cat that keeps leaving footprints up the front of my car windscreen continues to press “play” and “repeat”.
Yes, nature is a beautiful orchestra. A stirring ensemble. An uplifting melody. I choose to turn my attention away from manufactured life for long moments, to let my heart join its song.
Because Souls Are Like Gardens 