A garden with a view to myself


What about our inner landscape? what about our internal makeup? the one with whom we have to live all our lives with? the one we share with others? the one nobody else sees?

As a place that belongs to us forever, that we remember obsessively, one that we shape, render nourish and love radically. Could be…no?

If I could choose a place to be transported to, I would choose the garden of my mind. And it is in my mind that my relationship with God, with the world and with others begin. Inside of me there are the seeds of love to give others, inside of me there is the potential for me to be a better or a worse person. My choice. My garden.

Cease looking for flowers! There blooms a garden in your own home. While you look for trinkets the treasure house awaits you in your own being.


My garden is full of the warm sun light at the peak of its strength. Small birds are singing. The grass is green and strong. The soil is wet and fertile. There is a small meadow. A feeling of quiet happiness fills my soul, because I can smell the dampness of the soil, and feel the silence and quietness of nature undisturbed and respected. Along the path, in between the grass, there are white daisies and cornflowers, moving slowly following the small breeze. In this garden there are also strong trees, and sensitive and musical small rivers, creating movement as they follow their way, spreading love and quenching the thirst of the trees and flowers.

This garden was taken care of through the years, through the droughts and the storms. The soil was tilled, the weeds were pulled. All was prepared for new plants, allowing their growth with each other.

Every man must decide whether he will walk in the light of creative altruism or in the darkness of destructive selfishness.

Martin Luther King

Annie Blue


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