The Day I Replanted My Spirit in the Garden
What You'll Discover in This Post
Today's experiences have demonstrated to me many things: First to reconnecting with the earth for positive stress relief from your mind. Second to the way delicate seedlings remind me of the very special things about my own journey through life. Finally, the simple act of planting a seed holds much more than just an ordinary task; it is, in reality, an agreement made between you and yourself to move forward with hope, compassion and enthusiasm. All this will be found in this post that sweat, and hope and compassion all wrapped together to get off to a fresh new start.
Introduction: When the Soil Called My Name
There are days in Soshanguve when the world feels loud, but the garden whispers my name softly. This morning was like that. After the rain ceased, I went out of my house and the first thing that caught my eye was the warm and humid earth. And right after that, I heard an internal voice saying, "today you are going to plant."
I certainly had an opportunity to soil my hands with earth, and it was also a moment to recall that development is a result of tiny brave acts, rather than waiting for perfect circumstances.
It was at that point when I got down on my hands and knees to begin, and a person decided to take a photo of me.
The Moment My Hands Met the Seedlings
When I put down my first seedling, I had the same feeling I've gotten from all the other times I've been here A pull to this earth. You see, in the photo below, I'm leaning over my first seedling with both hands stabilizing and looking at it with intensity. It's amazing that, when I plant something as little as this, I can also be in the moment.
The wet soil from last night's rainy weather was ideal for transplanting. As I held the baby plants in my hands, I felt their roots quiver slightly they seemed uncertain about moving to a new place. So I told them quietly, "You're safe here. Grow."
I think I keep talking to plants as much as I do because I relate to how they must feel when they begin again.
Kneeling in the Dirt, I Found a Piece of Myself
There's a picture of me digging with a small garden knife, shaping holes one by one. When I looked at it, I realized how much love sits quietly in moments like this bent knees, dusty shoes, wet soil hugging my fingertips.
I wasn't just planting vegetables. I was planting discipline. Planting hope. I am planting myself as I envision me a few months down the road, with these little green sprouts as tall, strong, and nourishing my residence.
The more work I do in my garden, the more silent my thoughts become. It has a way of making everything disappear except for what is important to me.
When the Rows Finally Started Forming
It did not take long before the vegetable garden became a reality. The interior of the garden resembled scalars in a military formation; The seedlings were arranged in perfectly straight lines (all equally spaced) on a gorgeous coloured patchwork of piano keys.
While removing the bead of sweat from my forehead, I also chuckled alone because gardening is a profession that makes you feel small immediately when you go and work in it. When you first begin working on the garden you have clean hands, but within a short amount of time (less than a half an hour), you will most likely have dirt on your hands, sweat on your brow, and a sense of purpose to succeed in developing your garden.
The Lesson the Garden Taught Me Today
When I finally stood up and looked at what I had done, I felt… proud. Not of perfection but of effort. At times the hardest thing you can do in your life, is start.
The photos that I took are not the ones that represent me in the best or most ideal way; rather, they reveal my truest side. You can observe me bending over the earth, relying on what keeps coming and believing that if I sow things now, they will grow into something nice.
That's the heart of gardening.
That's the heart of growth.
And that's the heart of me.
Conclusion: A Promise Buried in the Soil
While the sun was going down beyond the clouds, I silently made a deal with myself and my garden that we would definitely keep returning to take care of the things that really matter, that we would not stop watering them and taking care of the seeds we had planted not only in the earth but also in our lives.
It has been a day that went beyond gardening.
It was about grounding myself.
Finding peace.
Starting again.
And I'm grateful these images captured the realness of that moment the sweat, the focus, the hope, the dirt… all of it.
