Just as you would not neglect the seeds that you planted with the hope they will bear fruits and vegetables, so you must attend to
and nourish the garden of your becoming.
—jean houston
Growing Seeds of Love:
Planting Guiding Values
After clearing the soul garden of a lot of junky thoughts, behaviors, attitudes, and materialistic values, it’s time to plant. The initial junk came from unconscious seeds of thoughts and actions. This time I aimed to consciously choose the best seeds to cultivate. “Sow a thought and you reap an action; sow an act and you reap a habit; sow a habit and you reap a character; sow a character and you reap a destiny,” Ralph Waldo Emerson said. What an exciting opportunity to choose in full awareness and to actively cultivate the seeds that would bring a new life. On the drive to the French Grand Canyon, I reflected on human nature and what to plant.
The Gorges du Verdon, the French equivalent of the Grand Canyon, plunges down to a rocky riverbed leaving a gap in the earth. Bordered with tiny, old villages; winding roads; cherry trees; and herds of sheep, it demands a driver’s full attention and good walking shoes once you stop. The village of Moustiers Ste. Marie perches on either side of a steep canyon creek, and its chapel appears suspended on the cliff above. Faience bowls decorated with grotesques present otherworldly visions of humans wearing wings and tails that trail off into swirls of gold and blue and sometimes transform into plants or animals. The creatures—part human, part animal, and part divine—swirl and dance across the faces of plates and deep bowls. They evoke our origins and deep connection to nature as well as our innate potential to be divine.
On the edge of the town, looking over the stone bridge, I perched halfway between the canyon below and the mountain above, but didn’t know where to go from here. Only two possibilities appeared: ahead and up into the unknown or back down the same path where I’d come from. A gold star hung on a forged iron chain strung across the gorge above the town. Placed there centuries ago by a knight of the crusades who had returned from captivity, it bridged the chasm between the cliffs and gave a mystical air of hope to the town.
The knight had left it as a sign of gratitude and recognition to the benevolent divine force that had brought him safely home. The star reminded me to be grateful too for this day with Provençal skies bluer than lapis lazuli and the crystalline light so loved by Van Gogh and Cézanne. But as I tried to find the path higher up, I lost my way. “Do you know how to get to the path?” I asked an old woman in a flower-print dress. She stood on the worn stoop of her stone house. Her smile revealed the absence of a few teeth and of all worldly cares.
“Keep going.” She waved in the direction with her hand pointing toward the elevated church. “There’ll be signs. Tu verras. You can’t miss it.”
I set out on foot toward a narrow, dusty road that ran midway up the gorge, and soon a herd of sheep crowded the path like low-lying puffy clouds. Dust covered my tan hiking boots and like the coordinated breathing and movement in Tai Chi, each step carefully accompanied my breath. In. Out. So. Ham. Stick to the path. An inner path of course, but which path? Did I need a religion? I wondered. Baptized at fourteen in a font behind the pulpit of a wooden country church, the preacher announced that only people who attended his church would make it to heaven. It seemed odd to me that God would only accept people from this small place. The garden of paradise would be a pretty empty and boring place from this viewpoint.
And besides, why would Spirit birth us all and then accept only a few elitists as companions? Why would the Divine destroy and seek vengeance on the world? I preferred the idea that all that happens in the world is a divine play in which we’re all assigned roles. I learned and yearned to see the Divine in all people and things, and even as a child I decided the Divine was an energy of love. Whatever that meant. At the time I read words of the Buddha, Dr. D. T. Suzuki’s Introduction to Zen Buddhism, and Gandhi’s truth and practices of nonviolence, and my explorations brought condemnation.
“You’re going to burn in hell,” a parishioner assured me.
“I don’t believe in hell,” I said calmly. But I wanted desperately to find and believe in something greater than myself. When I picked up the Bible again at age thirty-three, I read that divorce was a sin and I would perish a sinner. On the other hand, Jesus’ sweet face and sacred heart contradicted those harsh words as he greeted me in the sanctuary of nearly every Catholic church across France, Switzerland, and Italy. He revealed a picture of compassion and hope.
On travels to Thailand I loved the Buddhist temples decorated with demons and shrines filled with the serene, compassionate face of the Enlightened One. I felt at home and at peace barefoot and sitting on the stone floors while monks chanted and offered food to the gods. In Egypt the Muslims entering their mosques seemed to experience a deep sense of devotion to God that inspired the same in me. And Pharaoh Akhenaten’s sun god spoke to unity rather than separation. Akhenaten encouraged seeing forms as many, but God as one. Could any single religion have all the answers for all people and all time? Didn’t they all point to a facet of divine love? And most of all, what about this inner path, the one my inner gardener kept pointing out?
My attention turned back to the trail and to a woman in a straw hat who called to her sheep in the distance. Her two big white Pyrenees dogs and a border collie snapped at fluffy heels to keep the sheep together. I caught up with them. “Excuse me. Do you know the way to the voie des anges?” I said. The “Path of Angels,” they called it. It led along a high road that offered a broad panoramic vista. The young woman perched casually on a rock now; her dogs and sheep lay quietly in a pasture. She offered her dogs water from a fountain that flowed into a stone basin. I stooped to take a drink. She nodded. “Do you want the easy path? It winds up and can take longer. Or do you prefer the harder path that leads you straight to the source?”
Goal-oriented and driven in hiking and even in spiritual pursuits, I asked for the harder, direct path. “I don’t have much time,” I said. With her walking stick she pointed the way up a narrow sheep path and warned me about an exposed cliff where part of the trail had washed out. Then she sized me up. “It’s steep, but you’ll do okay.”
“Thanks,” I smiled. “You spend all year up here?”
“Somebody’s got to take care of them,” she said, nodding at her flock. A small lamb looked up at her and bleated. “In summer we move around the mountain pastures. In the winter we’re confined to the farm. We battle with some wolves, but for the most part, we’re at peace.”
I’d contemplated how the excessive concern about things and status had brought me to the brink of despair. “Do you envy all those people in the rich houses down below?” Lots of tourists had bought and rebuilt the mas, the old stone farmhouses, and turned them into estates in the region. She smiled broadly. “If someone’s not happy with few things, it’s foolish to think she’ll be happy with more,” she said. “If she’s happy in here,” she said, pointing to her chest, “then she’ll be happy anywhere.”
I would have loved to hear her wisdom long before chasing the empty dreams of all the material goals in business. “What’s important for you?” I said.
“Protection, love, and vigilance.” She held up three fingers as she marked them off slowly. “Protection means making sure everyone gets home safely.” With her long, tanned finger she drew a circle around the herd. “Vigilance means staying alert to danger and keeping it away, and love …”
I waited, anxious to know more about the mystery of love. She shrugged her shoulders. “No definition for love,” she said. “It just is. You know when it’s there. And you know when it’s not.”
I bit my lip and thought about the last few months. My confusion about love versus desire with Kalin had created a painful nightmare and a broken heart. I had no idea really what love meant or how it manifested. It seemed that one of those creatures painted on the Moustiers plates lived inside of me—part human, part beast, and part divine—and the lower, animal part had been getting the best of me. It was the part that responded to lower desires for possessions and for sensual pleasures. “Are you married?” I said.
“Happily,” she said. Then the shepherd stepped onto the trail, signaling the end of our conversation. “Bebe,” she called to one of the dogs. It immediately jumped to alert, ears pricked high. “Viens. Come along.” In an instant the herd scrambled up and the dogs snapped at the sheep’s heels again. Time to move on. “Think of love like small seeds to tend,” she said before setting off down the dusty path. “You tend them by tending to the details in life. The energy you put into a note. The love you cook into a meal …” Her voice trailed off.
“Thank you,” I said and set off on the journey again, yearning for answers about that essential piece of the puzzle the shepherd hadn’t defined. She loved her sheep with a capital L. She loved her work. It showed in her face, in the softness of her voice when she spoke to the animals, and in the way she tenderly leaned over to inspect the injured ear of one of her pink-nosed lambs. Planting seeds of desires for more money had guided me to a dead end with my job, spouse, and health. Time to change and think of what values to plant now for the new life I yearned to grow into.
I mentally replaced the dollar sign on my inner compass with Love and started to walk in that direction filled with many questions. What does it mean to love and be loved? How do you work with love? How can I relate to others through love? What does it mean to love unconditionally and to love one’s self? What I knew of love—falling in love, parental love for a child, love of my job or of my apartment and possessions—seemed like a limited portion of something far grander and more expansive. If I could get a handle on this one huge ideal, then I would be set for deeper understanding and growth.
On that sunny morning with the skies glistening over Provence, holding the quest for love and the desire to understand it in my heart, some answers started to appear. I stopped to refill my water bottle. Carved into a tree trunk by a fountain along the path, an answer found me in the wilderness. It nestled below a carving of MD + SB = 
. It read: “Love is energy.” My eyes popped. Yes! As I walked and reflected on love as energy, I recalled all of the times I’d said, “I love my work. I love my writing. I love my mother.” I sensed that energy present. Enthusiasm accompanies my love of work; passion fills my love of writing; and affection fills my heart when I think of love for family. But the energy of love remained the same beneath it though the feeling and flow might vary. Love is energy, though it may be directed and manifested in different ways.
Deeper answers unfolded on the path. I recalled The Prophet. “Work is love made visible,” wrote Kahlil Gibran. And I imagined the unfurling of the energy through my body, mind, and soul as I worked and words appeared mystically on the page. That energy transforms into matter through effort. But how will I know when love is present? Will I feel it or see it? I held this question in my heart and continued to walk the dusty path along the cliff. A small mountain chapel lured me in. Angels danced around the altar and plaster doves descended on the Madonna. Jesus’ sacred heart leapt with flames of love.
A newsletter printed on pink paper on a wooden table near the door attracted my eyes. I picked it up and the voice of divine synchronicity spoke through it in answer to my question. “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered; it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices in the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always perseveres. Love never fails.” (Holy Bible, 1 Corin. 13:4–8.) Maybe when patience, kindness, perseverance, and the other aspects of this recipe take precedence, then work, relationships, and life all fill with love. When I put the best interest of others first, love moves in to take control. I sat down on the wooden pew for a few minutes and closed my eyes to reflect in silence.
The materialistic values I initially grasped fresh out of college focused on gaining more things and pursuing more pleasure. They had guided me into painful and distressing situations that no longer aligned with my spiritual aims. While my role in business had afforded great experiences across cultures and countries, the focus on consuming encouraged selfish thinking rather than service to others and gratitude for what I owned. In relationships the unhappy story had turned out sour, too. I practiced the self-indulgent message, “Think of me and what I will get out of it!” But the more “me”-centered I became, the more my relationships suffered until they faltered and floundered. Would a focus on others and what I can give rather than what I can get miraculously change me and the relationships in my life? Would it bring self-love?
As I looked inside, into my secret garden, I recalled the seed of self-love planted at Karim’s recommendation during the inner visualization of my secret garden while in Egypt. Though the sprout above ground had not grown very tall, its roots expanded into the earth. I walked to the side altar where votive candles waited in red glass. Sliding a euro into the donation box, I lit a white waxy candle from a box of matches. That one small flame in this very dark place glowed throughout the obscure chapel with stained glass and dim corners, filling it with light.
Where shadows and darkness prevailed, now a small but brilliant light burned. “Let this be the lamp of love that it may never be extinguished in my heart,” I prayed. I yearned to know unconditional love and to sow it into my work. But love is more than a wish and a prayer. It transcends an intellectual idea and finds its reality in practice. The real tests of love were just beginning.
Cultivating Seeds of Self-Love
The Divine accepts and loves us exactly as we are without conditions. Often the hardest thing to grow and cultivate becomes a deep sense of respect, forgiveness, caring, gentleness, and love for one’s self. Through introspection we perceive the junk, past errors, and mistakes. Feelings of shame and guilt, suffering caused to ourselves and others, and self-blame may arise. The inner work you do requires courage to see the things you wish to remove and release. It also requires nurturing self-love and acceptance.
Sit quietly for a moment and enter into your secret garden. As you sit here, surround yourself with love and light. Imagine you see a past version of yourself that felt challenged. Go to that self and embrace, forgive, and hold her. Give her all of the attention and kindness you’d extend to a dear friend. Extend an ear and listen to her words. Allow that love to flow back to you and heal your heart.
Companion Planting
for Dreams and Values
Wise gardeners learn there’s not much need to use pesticides if we choose to place certain plants in proximity for mutual benefit. Marigolds contain natural insect repellent to keep certain pests at bay and protect other plants. Basil planted with tomatoes makes them tastier, and the borage flower planted with strawberries and many other plants naturally protects them from disease. Wise secret gardeners can use similar techniques of companion planting when sowing seeds for their dreams and desires. By dreams here I don’t mean dreams that arise from sleep. These dreams well up from your soul and represent deep desires of things you long to accomplish.
Maybe you’ve always wanted to paint, write a book, buy a place and create a retreat center, host a radio show, or become a massage therapist. By combining dreams with values, your aspirations can take root and grow. Many of us have deferred our own dreams to care for and support others, but now it’s time to explore what you want and need. Take a moment to contemplate the seeds you’re ready to sow. Imagine your soul desires first. Soul desires are generally from a deeper place within us. They transcend the material, though they may manifest in some material way. What yearnings from deep within you are ready to be planted? Next find the values you’d like to plant as companions to your aspirations and aims. These values may include patience, determination, curiosity, compassion, openness, and more. Defining your values will help to give you direction and keep away pests like negativity. You may want to imagine the values and dreams as flowers or plants.
Once you choose what to plant, contemplate how you would like to cultivate the seeds of your dreams and values in your daily life. Be prepared to put in the effort to make your values and dreams grow. Without effort the seeds will be consumed by weeds or simply not germinate. You may want to take a moment in the mornings to consider how you will cultivate your values and nurture your soul desires. It might also be helpful to set aside a time at the end of the day to reflect on how you fared.
I love to draw my secret garden at different times to see what state the plantings are in. You may want to try this too. Let your hand draw and play without being preoccupied about the outcome. It’s for your eyes only. You may want to keep your drawing or a quote that supports your values and vision in a visible place, such as on the bathroom mirror, on your altar, in your office, or in the car to act as a gentle reminder of what you’d love to see grow.
Checking in with
Your Inner Gardener
Now that you’ve been developing your relationship with your inner gardener, it’s an ideal time to explore how you feel about this inner guidance. The inner gardener—that wise, higher part of our self—communicates in subtle ways. It may speak in very soft words, through dreams and in visions, or feelings. As you explore your soul connection, do you check in with that wise, inner soul-Self before making big decisions? Do you take a moment to listen to your emotions and feel what they are trying to tell you? Do you go beyond the physical and material concerns to see if the choices you make satisfy your soul-Self, your inner gardener? You may want to take a moment to write out a dialogue between yourself and your wise, inner gardener or simply journal about how this relationship with your soul is developing.