I stood beside our garden and thought about all the fears I had when we first moved into our home.
My husband and a friend have been encouraging me to start living my life again. First, my husband and I started riding bikes and then I took a Spanish class. Recently a friend started encouraging me to plant an “apple tree,” that is, to just plant something. It is a shame to have an acre of land and not enjoy it. All I had to do was mention this to my husband, and he was ready to start planting. He has been waiting a long time to garden again.
I wrote about my fears when we moved into our home in an earlier post, Layers. Even though I eventually overcame those fears and could go in my yard alone, up until now, I haven’t.
This past week we planted a small vegetable and herb garden, some hanging flower pots for the patio, and a few house plants. We also bought two composters to begin composting again. We had a wonderful time planning, buying, selecting, and planting.
While I held some seeds in my hands as my husband put them in the soil, I almost began to cry. I had this awareness that there never really was anything to be afraid of and yet my fears crippled me when we first moved into our home.
The last few days, I have spent time in the yard and on our patio alone. It is amazing how something so simple and wonderful could hold so much fear as well. Our real battles are inside of ourselves. It takes caring people to understand and grasp the power of our fears and to love us through them.
Whenever I was in nature throughout my life, I always had this underlying sadness as if something was missing and I couldn’t really experience the moments. These last few days, not only have I been outside in my garden and on my patio alone, but I am truly experiencing the moments. There is no longer a sadness in those moments or a feeling that something is missing. I can be alone with nature and feel peaceful and complete, as if everything in that moment is as it should be. And it is!
I never realized that I was what was missing. Not being able to be present was stealing moments that I can never get back. But I can have them now.
The first day I saw a hummingbird at one of the hanging flower pots and several yellow butterflies. And I heard lots and lots of birds chirping in the trees that line our property. Nothing was missing. Before I didn’t feel as though I belong here. Today nothing is missing because I am present and I do belong in these moments.
Alone in nature, in my own backyard, you can’t get much safer and peaceful than that when the fears are gone.
It was the experiences of these past two days that inspired the poem I wrote yesterday, Life Is Made Up Of Moments.
Abuse and loss had this ripple effect in my life. One led to the other and there was no time for my heart to keep up or to process them or to overcome.
Healing can be like this as well. It only takes something small, or someone special to start the ripple effect. One wonderful thing can also lead to another.