The Mind
Thoughts come and go in my mind; they often leave permanently, but sometimes they leave their footprint on my heart. A thought is only a seed, and there are those like me who aspire to be a gardener. Will I sprout a thorny brush or a luscious oasis? I sing gently to my plants, and I praise them as I cut away the withered branches. The twigs disintegrate into fertile soil. When I harvest fruit, I savor its sweetness and thank God for quenching my spiritual thirst. Sour, unripened berries are the consequence of my impatience. Poisonous roots wrap themselves around me and choke me. I did not have the choice of the eldest trees. As I grow in the spiritual stronghold, I learn how to hack away the thick trunks. My arms grow weak after a hard day, but I trust that I will be strengthened with rest. Every day, I wake up and decide whether or not to tend to the garden. I feel alone when I explore the hills and valleys, but I remind myself that even the plants have a soul. God provides them with the same opportunity of life as God gave me. As I exhale my worries to the plant, I inhale its precious gift of fresh air. I realize that I have so much to learn. My true friends remind me of God. Like the plants, they nudge me toward an internal unity, rather than a fragmented disarray. How could I feel sad when God appears in the spirit of my friends? How could I feel shame when I choose good people to stand by my side? Our minds, sinking in the abyss, direct a drama. If I choose to serve my false idol, I will become like a withered branch, decaying in the earth. I realize how thoughts are recycled, so most thoughts exist and exit. Some appear more than others, but I know now that I can let go.
