The garden begins.
Mud flows where the rain drips.
Weeds begin to flourish in the mild warmth of early spring.
Tools lightly rust where they were left dilapidated.
As you walk through this garden,
You feel the burden of overwhelm.
You notice how much work there is to do and wonder where to begin.
You feel the weight of something becoming so out of your control.
Because this is the season.
The season of disarray.
As surely as the wind blows,
This space will become messy.
No matter how we try to prevent,
At some point we find ourselves stuck in the mud.
Surrounded by weeds.
And it's okay.
The mess.
As from this space of disarray,
The greatest hope will arise.
The greatest improvements will be made,
Should you choose.
The weeds will be pulled,
One by one,
To make space.
The dirt will be tilled,
Sifted.
Where clumps of mud once sat,
Loose appended soil will wait.
And soon,
Seeds will be planted.
Whatever mess you are sitting in,
Whatever mud your feet feel stuck in,
Whatever weeds you are surrounded by,
This will become your bountiful harvest.
You begin simply,
Not all at once.
You start by pulling a single weed,
Then another.
Each day you feel the effects of hard work,
A clearing in your soul.
You see that what once felt overwhelming is now becoming less arduous.
This clearing happens slowly,
In a way we aren't aware.
Each day you put in one small effort,
Until you begin to realize how far you have come.
And soon,
All of the weeds are gone.
The soil surrounding you is ready for all that you want to create.
For all you want to grow.
And so you begin to nourish this space.
You take time to identify what you really need,
Why you need,
What you really want,
And why you hope.
You take time to repair your sore muscles.
You take time to step back and dream.
You become clear,
Hopeful,
With purpose and intention.
And when you are ready,
You plant your first seed.
And while the hardest of the work is done,
Only now does your enthusiastic work begin.
Your hopes and dreams are so pellucid,
And in the mess of the past,
Your aspiration will rise,
Stronger than before.
A beautiful garden of hopes and dreams.
But these dreams need to be held,
Supported.
And in the heat of summer,
They will need more water than before.
The weeds will try to make their way,
They will attempt to steal the nutrients from that which you are growing.
And it will be up to you to defend,
To protect.
As the nights begin to chill,
Your harvest will await.
And now so obviously,
You see your grand creation,
Whatever mess you are in now,
Dear,
This will become your bountiful harvest.
We don't create the space we need to grow something amazing until we are fully surrounded in muck.
Now is not the time to give up.
Now is not the time to give in.
Do not let the weeds consume you.
Now is the time to dig deep and pick them one by one.
The garden of dreams begins in disarray.
The mess is the most incredible opportunity for creation.
The time is now to begin clearing space for the dreams you will most certainly harvest tomorrow.
Thank you.
You
