Watering the soul

Is there anything more refreshing for the soul than watering in the garden? I know there are times when it seems like a chore and your brain tries to keep you from going out to water with nagging reminders of all the other chores you should be focusing your time on, phone calls to make, bills to pay, laundry to fold. You know it will be hot out there. With the sun beating you in the head and the sticky sweat rolling down the small of your back. But then you think about your poor thirsty little plants. The ones that you lovingly tucked into the ground, scooching the soil up around their necks so much like putting babies to bed. So, out you go.

You turn on the hose and the gentle shower starts to cascade out of the spout. You untangle the snaking hose, grown stiff from so much time bunched up in one position. You start with that one plant, the one that is stooped over. A poor lost soul whose faith has been shaken. You let the spray of your hose wash over him, a soothing touch to bring relief and inspire going on. You move from plant to plant, each one eager for their turn. Your like a fairy godmother sprinkling glittery magic on all of the inhabitants of your land. You know that the water will breath new life into your plants and give them what they need to keep growing. To keep evolving, until they have blossomed into the miracle that every plant can be.

But what does the water bring to you? You feel it. It’s coolness moving through the hose with the power of its vast importance. It drips backwards from the spout. Just a little. Just enough to dribble down your arm and roll off your elbow. It’s cold tickle easing the heat of the day. It tempts you, you move your hand into its stream and feel the tiny drops, so soft and cold. Almost the mirror opposite of snuggling into warm fuzzy mittens. Such simple bliss. Your toes get wet as you move through the garden with the dusty little splashes that tell you when the ground has drank her fill in that spot.

You watch the water. The way the light moves through it, the arc it makes as it falls from the spout now held high. Your own private waterfall to marvel at and enjoy as you lose yourself in the peaceful mindlessness of the job. You are free to remember. Watering the garden with your Grandfather as a child, splashing in the sprinklers with the neighbor kids. You can’t imagine how those kids could stand the cold water soaking them to the core. But at the same time you remember the unabashed joy of being allowed to be soaking wet, that left you incapable of feeling how cold you were.

Here now in your own garden, with your own hose, you realize almost with surprise at how content you are in this moment. How refreshed you feel even in the heat. You think about how happy you feel and know that you were like that first plant. A little stooped over, a little parched and maybe having lost sight of how wonderful being in this life can be and how you have miracles within you just waiting to be watered into blossoming. You think for just a moment how many moments like this have been missed by letting yourself get caught up and overwhelmed by all of the “chores” that need to get done. You wonder how many times you have missed realizing that having those chores to do is a blessing and that each one has the potential to move you closer to finding the miracles inside you.

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