The soul is a garden.

It’s a very small space, like a tiny farm enveloped by a burgeoning city. Regardless of the hubbub outside its borders, the sowing and reaping are done, just as they always were and forever will be.

Within this sacred property, there is highly fertile soil.

Any idea can grow there.

Space is certainly limited, only a few will sprout, but whatever is planted and nurtured will bear fruit. This microscopic patch of waiting earth is the root of all we see in the world, the intangible cause of tangible effect.

The best things are embedded in us.

We have an instinctive recognition of what reflects beautiful, unmistakable truth. All of us understand these concepts with little in the way of observation or training.




From birth to death, these small beginnings are given a fresh opportunity to bloom in the fields of our hearts through the cycles of our lives.

Weeds make every effort to take over.

Unsavory experiences and poor influences scatter spores of negativity across our landscape. These nefarious flowers, being easier to sustain, multiply with little work.




Life is about the things we allow to blossom.

What gets the sunlight of our attention?

What is fueled by the breath of our thoughts?

What is quenched by the water of our actions?

What are we doing for our seeds?


Serial Killer

See Your Original Face

How Does Your Garden Grow?


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