This more symbiotic form of relationship — responding to and working with nature, rather than controlling or exploiting it — is what we collectively need to switch to. So it’s not so much about getting what we want from the garden, but more about a way of gardening that is good for nature in a broader sense, by increasing biodiversity and caring for the soil.
There’s that Zen phrase, “Chopping wood, carrying water.” When you do something, be in the moment. Like weeding: It’s repetitive, but meditative.
Absolute. Those rhythmic, conscious activities that involve your hands are very filling, a form of meditation. There are other ways to experience this; it is not exclusive to the garden. But working with nature’s creative energies is unique to gardening.
People often describe losing themselves in the garden. This is important therapeutically. When the ego falls away and we are one with a task, we experience a sense of inner peace. For people who are depressed or struggle with anxious or negative thoughts, it can be very, very helpful to turn off the dialogue in their head.
†The garden gives you a protected physical space,” you write, “which helps to increase your sense of mental space.” You call gardeners losing themselves in flow states?†
I think weeding can be an effective way to get into a flow state. The immersive quality of gardening helps us draw to the present moment. It can be a form of mindfulness that has widely recognized anti-stress effects.
Gardening brings us into the present, but also has an intrinsic future orientation. The sense of positive anticipation we can feel when working with the natural vigor brings with it a sense of purpose and motivation. There are many times when this can be very helpful. Sometimes I feel the garden pull me in and get me going.
The way we experience time through the garden is central to its therapeutic effects. Like the paradox of empowerment and disempowerment, gardening brings us in touch with the transience of life, but it also allows us to feel the continuity of life. This can be immensely comforting to people recovering from trauma and loss.
I’m just kidding that my favorite place is the compost heap, that dimension of eternal life.
I quote Stanley Kunitz, the poet, in the book about that. As a young man, he worked on a farm and learned that “death is absolutely essential to the survival of life on Earth.”