To make a good garden, you don't just plant seeds. You need to feed it, water it, weed it. You pick out the rocks and the sticks and the slugs. You encourage the worms.
In autumn, you clean up and prepare for the spring. In the winter, you compost. And plan.
Your plants' needs are paramount. Which way does the sun travel? How many hours does it shine on your garden? And, by the way, have you tested the soil's ph levels?
Yup, a good garden takes a lot of physical effort, for sure, but also a lot of thought. A lot of care.
And wouldn't it be easy--after all of the time invested--to keep it all for yourself?
Instead of hoarding, though, the garden is the ultimate symbol of graceful abundance. Of bounty.
You wouldn't give away your land, but you happily distribute the fruits of your labour on that land. You share your creative effort. An unexpected extra for dinner? No worries. Just pick a few more lettuce leaves, another head of broccoli. Throw some more peas in the pot.
When we come to our yoga, our body is our "land." We engage every part of ourselves, consolidating our effort. All of our knowledge of alignment, all of our muscular engagement, is pooled. We reach deep, and we practice. We practice.
But what makes our asanas truly beautiful is when we reflect all that internal effort back out. While we turn inside ourselves in order to commit our fullest potential, we don't hoard it, we share it. And by radiating our energy outwards, we expand ourselves. We become more.
We grow our garden.
