They say that once upon a time there lived a gardener who could talk to plants. Every time he cared for a flower in his garden, he cared for it like a child. After all, in order for a beautiful flower to grow from a tiny seed, it needs to be planted in a strictly defined place in the garden, where there is suitable soil for the growth of its inner nature and the manifestation of special properties. You need to make sure that he has enough sun, light, heat and rainwater; you need to protect it from harmful insects and clean it of dead leaves. It may take a long time before it appears in all its glory. Any flower that has grown is unique in nature, unlike other flowers. Of course, he is more or less similar to his brothers, but he brought into the world his special extraordinary aroma, his song of joy.
Every time a gardener took care of some lonely tree in his garden, he thought that every single tree was an extremely beautiful creature. They give us their endless beauty, harmony and unbridled upward striving. The gardener was amazed at the perseverance, patience and wise calm of the tree he was caring for. He noticed that the tree had nowhere to hide from the weather. In spring and autumn, its branches experience torrents of rain, in winter - snow, in summer - scorching heat. It always accepts what is. In summer it allows us to relax in its shade, shelters us from the rays of the scorching sun, in spring and autumn it protects us from rain, and in winter birds find shelter on its branches. Every year in the fall, the tree brings people fruits, under the weight of which the branches bend closer to the ground, as if giving themselves. And besides, it pleases us with its colors, without thinking about it at all and without wanting to be better than it really is - it simply follows its own nature.
The gardener worked every day. And every day he released his soul into the garden, and it, like a child laughing from the heart, from the very depths of its being, forever playing, forever tireless, walked through the garden, drawn from one beautiful flower to another. And nothing could distract her from admiring the flowers and inhaling their aromas. So every time spring began in his soul, the birds sang, and it was time outside of time, and it was always with him, inside.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru