Every relationship is like a garden and every garden has weeds. Arguments are the little weeds of our relationship that grow up around the things we intentionally plant. Some arguments donβt seem so bad and are easy to work around whenever they pop up. Others are ugly enough that you go nuclear on them. That patch of land is abandoned as scorched earth for a couple of years. Either way, the weeds always come back as reliably as the days and the seasons despite our attempt to get rid of them once and for all. This is true of the arguments we have but also the arguments we donβt have. Arguments donβt end because they have long, long roots.
What is it about human nature that when we are touched in a way that is life changing we want to share the experience with others. I have to think it is about bringing gifts from spirit back to the spirit in humans. All I know is that after I experienced the four years of intimate conversations with God/spirit/my higher self/the universe and the resulting growth and healing, I would ask myself, βWhat should I do?β and the answer was always, relentlessly, write a book and share it.
You know it too, this very hour of the morning when life is barely hatched. The sun melting under the snow. The bud breathing under the frost. The numbed wing of the bird. The morning has its truths that whisper only in a low voice. Very low. We have to be silent. God walks barefoot in the gardens.
A book is a garden, an orchard, a storehouse, a party, a company by the way, a counselor, a multitude of counselors.
If you look only as Genesis as an allegory, you have a major problem, because if it's an allegory, then tell me who our ancestor was? If Abraham was real, then from Abraham if Adam isn't real, if it's just an allegory, it's just a story, then what's the real Adam who really fell in a garden and really sinned? Where did we come from?
The job market of the future will consist of those jobs that robots cannot perform. Our blue-collar work is pattern recognition, making sense of what you see. Gardeners will still have jobs because every garden is different. The same goes for construction workers. The losers are white-collar workers, low-level accountants, brokers, and agents.
I'm up at 5:30 or 6, but not willingly. By 8:30, I'm in my home office. I take a swim in the afternoon, and I garden. We have about an acre of land.
I grew up on a working farm. It was small, a hundred acres, but we had cows and pigs and chickens and sheep and a vegetable garden. I spent hours pulling weeds, hoeing, feeding the horses, cleaning out the stalls. My dad was a tough taskmaster. I always worked, but we also had fun.
America is a place of many great events. Here is where Adam dwelt, where the Garden of Eden was located. America was the place of former civilizations, including Adam's, the Jaredites', and Nephites'.
If we descended from space aliens, that's just as viable as Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, as far as I'm concerned.
There are blessings in being close to the soil, in raising your own food even if it is only a garden in your yard and a fruit tree or two. Those families will be fortunate who, in the last days, have an adequate supply of food because of their foresight and ability to produce their own.
I adore summer entertaining. For a dinner party at the farm, I might prepare homemade fettuccine with porcini mushrooms, soft-shell crabs, spinach from the garden, and lemon tarts with fraises des bois for dessert.
It was like my part-time job as a kid to be an adventurer... in my head. I used to sword-fight in the garden and in the park - with my Nan, of all people, with my Nan who can barely walk! I used to make her run around, and I'd go around destroying these trees and cones and stuff.
A garden is a complex of aesthetic and plastic intentions; and the plant is, to a landscape artist, not only a plant - rare, unusual, ordinary or doomed to disappearance - but it is also a color, a shape, a volume or an arabesque in itself.
On Saturday afternoons when all the things are done in the house and there's no real work to be done, I play Bach and Chopin and turn it up real loudly and get a good bottle of chardonnay and sit out on my deck and look out at the garden.
There may be fairies at the bottom of the garden. There is no evidence for it, but you can't prove that there aren't any, so shouldn't we be agnostic with respect to fairies?
I support Alice Waters in her desire that there be a vegetable garden at the White House. I don't think they should rip up the Rose Garden, because that's something that I love. They should probably dig up another patch and grow some vegetables there.
I had a really nice childhood; I had great parents. I earned my allowance by washing dishes, and in the summer I earned my allowance by working in daddy's garden.
God Almighty first planted a garden. And indeed, it is the purest of human pleasures.
I've found a place that would amaze you. People used to live there, but now it's all overgrown and no one goes there. Absolutely no one - only me... Just a little house and a garden. And two dogs.