Gardening Healing Quotes

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The sun shall always rise upon a new day and there shall always be a rose garden within me. Yes, there is a part of me that is broken, but my broken soil gives way to my wild roses.
C. JoyBell C.
Where humanity sowed faith, hope, and unity, joy’s garden blossomed.
Aberjhani (The River of Winged Dreams)
Take a walk through the garden of forgiveness and pick a flower of forgiveness for everything you have ever done. When you get to that time that is now, make a full and total forgiveness of your entire life and smile at the bouquet in your hands because it truly is beautiful.
Stephen Richards (Forgiveness and Love Conquers All: Healing the Emotional Self (Inspiration Mini-Series))
There is a moment in our healing journey when our denial crumbles; we realize our experience and it's continued effects on us won't "just go away". That's our breakthrough moment. It's the sun coming out to warm the seeds of hope so they can grow our personal garden of empowerment.
Jeanne McElvaney (Healing Insights: Effects of Abuse for Adults Abused as Children)
A mother’s love is like an everlasting bed of roses, that continues to blossom. A mother’s love bears strength, comfort, healing and warmth. Her beauty is compared to a sunny day that shines upon each rose petal and inspires hope.
Ellen J. Barrier
You cannot mourn the life you haven't live yet, only one that has already gone. You will never know the meadows you could grow, if you are fixated on the ashes of a garden you never had.
Nikita Gill (Where Hope Comes From: Poems of Resilience, Healing, and Light)
When a writer writes, it's as if she holds the sides of her chest apart, exposes her beating heart. And even though everything wants to heal, to close over and protect the heart, the writer must keep it bare, exposed.
Helen Humphreys (The Lost Garden)
There's relief in not having to be outside. No gardening, no mowing the lawn, no tyranny of long daylight hours to fill with productive activity. We rip through summer, burning the hours and tearing up the land. Then snow comes like a bandage, and winter heals the wounds.
Jerry Dennis
The 114 chakras in the human body are like cosmic flowers, blooming in the celestial garden called the body. 
Amit Ray (Ray 114 Chakra System Names, Locations and Functions)
Each malevolence has a cousin that heals it. I fancy Hurtsickle and Heartsease as herbal enemies –weeds growing in reach of one another; the bite and the balm in balance.
Jalina Mhyana (Dreaming in Night Vision: A Story in Vignettes)
No Surprises A heart that’s full up like a landfill, a job that slowly kills you, bruises that won’t heal. You look so tired-unhappy, bring down the government, they don’t, they don’t speak for us. I’ll take a quiet life, a handshake of carbon monoxide, with no alarms and no surprises, no alarms and no surprises, no alarms and no surprises, Silent silence. This is my final fit, my final bellyache, with no alarms and no surprises, no alarms and no surprises, no alarms and no surprises please. Such a pretty house and such a pretty garden. No alarms and no surprises, no alarms and no surprises, no alarms and no surprises please.
As a survivor, I feel a duty to provide a realistic view of the complexity of recovery. I am not here to rebrand the mess he made on campus. It is not my responsibility to alchemize what he did into healing words society can digest. I do not exist to be the eternal flame, the beacon, the flowers that bloom in your garden.
Chanel Miller (Know My Name)
Everyone has an urge to create. Its expression may flow through many channels: through writing, art or music, through the inventiveness of work or in any number of ways unique to all of us, whether it be cooking, gardening or the art of social discourse. The point is to honour the urge. To do so is healing for ourselves and for others; not to do so deadens our bodies and our spirits.
Gabor Maté (When the Body Says No: The Cost of Hidden Stress)
Grace is the first ingredient necessary for growing up in the image of God. Grace is unbroken, uninterrupted, unearned, accepting relationship. It is the kind of relationship humanity had with God in the Garden of Eden. Adam and Eve were loved and provided for. They knew God’s truth, and they had perfect freedom to do God’s will. In short, they were secure; they had no shame and anxiety. They could be who they truly were. Perhaps you have experienced this kind of love and grace with someone. You can be exactly who you are. You do not need to hide your thoughts or feelings; you do not need to perform; you do not need to do anything to be loved. Someone knows the real you, and loves you anyway.
Henry Cloud (Changes That Heal: The Four Shifts That Make Everything Better…And That Everyone Can Do)
Gardens have the magic to heal. When one is grieving, nature’s smile is a tender place to be.
Donna Goddard (Love's Longing (Love and Devotion, #3))
The making of gardens and parks goes on with civilization all over the world, and they increase both in size and number as their value is recognized. Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in, where Nature may heal and cheer and give strength to body and soul alike. This natural beauty-hunger is made manifest in the little windowsill gardens of the poor, though perhaps only a geranium slip in a broken cup, as well as in the carefully tended rose and lily gardens of the rich, the thousands of spacious city parks and botanical gardens, and in our magnificent National Parks—the Yellowstone, Yosemite, Sequoia, etc.—Nature's sublime wonderlands, the admiration and joy of the world. Nevertheless, like anything else worth while, from the very beginning, however well guarded, they have always been subject to attack by despoiling gain-seekers and mischief-makers of every degree from Satan to Senators, eagerly trying to make everything immediately and selfishly commercial, with schemes disguised in smug-smiling philanthropy, industriously, sham-piously crying, "Conservation, conservation, panutilization," that man and beast may be fed and the dear Nation made great. Thus long ago a few enterprising merchants utilized the Jerusalem temple as a place of business instead of a place of prayer, changing money, buying and selling cattle and sheep and doves; and earlier still, the first forest reservation, including only one tree, was likewise despoiled. Ever since the establishment of the Yosemite National Park, strife has been going on around its borders and I suppose this will go on as part of the universal battle between right and wrong, however much of its boundaries may be shorn, or its wild beauty destroyed.
John Muir (The Yosemite)
it is the discovery of the depths of weakness, the power of grace, and the price of both. Moreover, what takes place in the desert is not simply difficult travel and adventurous learning; it is repentance and conversion, the transformation of mixed motivations into purified desire, the greening of desert into garden through the living water of grace.
Gerald G. May (Addiction and Grace: Love and Spirituality in the Healing of Addictions)
To speak of creativity is to speak of profound intimacy. It is also to speak of our connecting to the Divine in us and of our bringing the Divine back to the community. This is true whether we understand our creativity to be begetting and nourishing our children, making music, doing theater, gardening, writing, teaching, running a business, painting, constructing houses, or sharing the healing arts of medicine and therapy.
Matthew Fox (Creativity)
In the rare moments I permitted any stillness, I noted a small fluttering at the pit of my belly, a barely perceptible disturbance. The faint whisper of a word would sound in my head: writing. At first I could not say whether it was heartburn or inspiration. The more I listened, the louder the message became: I needed to write, to express myself through written language not only so that others might hear me but so that I could hear myself. The gods, we are taught, created humankind in their own image. Everyone has an urge to create. Its expression may flow through many channels: through writing, art, or music or through the inventiveness of work or in any number of ways unique to all of us, whether it be cooking, gardening, or the art of social discourse. The point is to honor the urge. To do so is healing for ourselves and for others; not to do so deadens our bodies and our spirits. When I did not write, I suffocated in silence.
Gabor Maté (In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts: Close Encounters with Addiction)
Why do we keep believing that we can control nature,even as it banishes us repeatedly from our homes in search of new fertile ground?
Maria Rodale (Organic Manifesto: How Organic Farming Can Heal Our Planet, Feed the World, and Keep Us Safe)
there is no more powerful medicine than true love. Love can heal any wound
Valter Dos Santos (Butterflies in the Garden: A story of how true love travels through time - Second edition)
It was come as you are when visiting my blog, CiCI's Garden -otherwise what would be the point? Readers were welcomed to a virtual place where emotions were respected and affirmed, and encouragement was offered to those who longed to know that wounded hearts can heal - even if it takes a lifetime.
EsthersChild (It Takes A Cat)
A top source of elevated microorganisms is sprouts. Alfalfa, broccoli, clover, fenugreek, lentil, mustard, sunflower, kale, and other seeds like them, when sprouted, are living micro-gardens. In this tiny, nascent form of life, they’re teeming with beneficial bacteria that will help your gut thrive.
Anthony William (Medical Medium: Secrets Behind Chronic and Mystery Illness and How to Finally Heal)
But hidden by those large blooms was Emilienne’s real garden: white chrysanthemums for protection, dandelion root for a good night’s sleep, eucalyptus and marjoram for healing. There was foxglove, ginger, heather, and mint. The poisonous belladonna. The capricious peony. And lavender. One could never have enough lavender.
Leslye Walton (The Strange and Beautiful Sorrows of Ava Lavender)
Jaenelle looked thoughtful. “He seduced me. Well, seduced Witch. When we were in the abyss.” “He what?” Lucivar asked with deadly calm. “Don’t get snarly,” Jaenelle snapped. “It was a trick to make me heal the body. He didn’t really want me. Her. He didn’t…” Her voice trailed away. She waited a minute before continuing. “He said he’d been waiting for Witch all his life. That he’d been born to be her lover. But then he didn’t want to be her lover.” “Hell’s fire, Cat,” Lucivar exploded. “You were a twelve-year-old who had recently been raped. What did you expect him to do?” “I wasn’t twelve in the abyss.” Lucivar narrowed his eyes, wondering what she meant by that. “He lied to me,” she said in a small voice. “No, he didn’t. He meant exactly what he said. If you had been eighteen and had offered him the Consort’s ring, you would have found that out quick enough.” Lucivar stared at the blurry garden. He cleared his throat. “Saetan loves you, Cat. And you love him. He did what he had to do to save his Queen. He did what any Warlord Prince would do. If you can’t forgive him, how will you ever be able to forgive me?” “Oh, Lucivar.” Sobbing, Jaenelle threw her arms around him.
Anne Bishop (Heir to the Shadows (The Black Jewels, #2))
Literature for me… tries to heal the harm done by stories. (How much harm? Most of the atrocities of history have been created by stories, e.g., the Jews killed Jesus.) I follow Sartre that the freedom the author claims for herself must be shared with the reader. So that would mean that literature is stories that put themselves at the disposal of readers who want to heal themselves. Their healing power lies in their honesty, the freshness of their vision, the new and unexpected things they show, the increase in power and responsibility they give the reader.
Geoff Ryman (The Child Garden)
income inequality” was actually the issue, why is there such outrage at the oil and pharmaceutical company executives who at least keep us warm at night and heal our sick as they take our money, but not a protester to be found questioning the career politicians who produce nothing and yet have somehow become multimillionaires just about all?
Evan Sayet (KinderGarden Of Eden)
A philosopher's words are empty if they do not heal the suffering of mankind. For just as medicine is useless if it does not remove sickness from the body, so philosophy is useless if it does not remove suffering from the soul. —Epicurus
Hiram Crespo (Tending the Epicurean Garden)
If what you dig up is painful or ugly, throw it away. That means to process it, mourn it, heal it, grieve it, repent of it, or whatever it takes to work it out of your system. You are growing a garden in your heart; some things you wish to increase, and others you need to weed out. Either way requires caretaking. That is your job as guardian of your heart.
Henry Cloud (9 Things You Simply Must Do to Succeed in Love and Life: A Psychologist Learns from His Patients What Really Works and What Doesn't)
To write the truth as I see it; to defend the weak against the strong; to fight for justice; and to seek, as best I can to bring healing perspectives to bear on their terrible hates and fears of mankind, in the hope of someday bringing about one world, in which men[and women] will enjoy the differences of the human garden instead of killing each other over them.
I.F. Stone
There are many paths leading to a garden and many experiences awaiting those who venture in. No matter what your motive—whether to grow healthy, delicious food; spend time outdoors feeling more alive than your desk job allows; help save the planet; find relaxation, solace, or healing; meet your neighbors; get your hands in the sweet earth; or discover for yourself just how abundant and generous nature can be—a garden rarely disappoints. It’s a magnet for life in all its quirky, beautiful forms.
Jane Shellenberger (Organic Gardener's Companion: Growing Vegetables in the West)
We’re all assigned a piece of the garden, a corner of the universe that is ours to transform. Our corner of the universe is our own life—our relationships, our homes, our work, our current circumstances—exactly as they are. Every situation we find ourselves in is an opportunity, perfectly planned by the Holy Spirit, to teach love instead of fear. Whatever energy system we find ourselves a part of, it’s our job to heal it—to purify the thought forms by purifying our own. It’s never really a circumstance that needs to change—it’s we who need to change. The prayer isn’t for God to change our lives, but rather for Him to change us.
Marianne Williamson (Return to Love)
You don’t need to be a fortress to be strong. You don’t need to build walls to keep yourself safe. Open the windows and let the breeze breathe life into your bones. Go outside, touch the earth with your bare hands, and remind yourself how it feels to plant the seeds of love and watch them bloom into something beautiful. Water those flowers well; your garden will reawaken in the sun.
Kirsten Robinson (Evergreen)
At first, he talked about the flowers in the garden behind his country house in Surrey. His voice still had its Midlands accent but was soft now and barely audible. He knew the plants by name and took a few minutes with each of them: ageratum, coreopsis, echinacea, rudbeckia. The yarrow, he said, had rose-red flowers on two-foot stems. Achillea millefolium, the plant Achilles used to heal wounds.
Frederick Weisel (Teller)
The names of the compact's signers, including Anne Hutchinson's husband, Will, are listed below the text. Here lies the deepest reason why the Woman's Healing Garden strikes me as so forlorn - that Hutchinson is remembered here by pink echinacea in bloom instead of on the Portsmouth Compact plaque, where she belongs. All of the signers were there because of her, because she stood up to Massachusetts and they stood with her. But all the signers were men. Anne Hutchinson wasn't allowed to sign the founding document of the colony she founded.
Sarah Vowell (The Wordy Shipmates)
On the banks of the Euphrates find a secret garden cunningly walled. There is an entrance, but the entrance is guarded. There is no way in for you. Inside you will find every plant that grows growing circular-wise like a target. Close to the heart is a sundial and at the heart an orange tree. This fruit has tripped up athletes while others have healed their wounds. All true quests end in this garden, where the split fruit pours forth blood and the halved fruit is a full bowl for travelers and pilgrims. To eat of the fruits means to leave the garden because the fruit speaks of other things, other longings. So at dusk you leave the place you love, not knowing if you can ever return, knowing you can never return by the same way as this. It may be, some other day, that you will open the gate by chance, and find yourself again on the other side of the wall.
Jeanette Winterson (Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit)
Summer is a period of luxurious growth. To be in harmony with the atmosphere of summer, awaken early in the morning and reach to the sun for nourishment to flourish as the gardens do. Work, play, travel, be joyful, and grow into selfless service. The bounty of the outside world enters and enlivens us.
Paul Pitchford (Healing With Whole Foods: Asian Traditions and Modern Nutrition)
Be you therefore, a wise gardener. Cultivate a deep love and respect for yourself, for you are not here to “fix” the world. You are not here to “fix” your brother or sister. It is only love that heals. And until you have loved yourself wholly by having purified the mind of every erroneous thought you have ever held—until you have loved yourself—you do not, in truth, love anyone or anything. Save in those brief moments when you let your guard down and the Love of God shines forth through you so quickly you do not even know what happened! The wise gardener cultivates a state of consciousness in which the Love of God is unimpeded.
Shanti Christo Foundation (The Way of Mastery ~ Part One: The Way of the Heart (The Way of Mastery))
Plant to breathe Plant to cool down the earth Plant to heal yourself, physically and mentally Plant to regain balance Plant to live
Noora Ahmed Alsuwaidi
We must remember the healing properties of nature. Nature nurtures.
Sanchita Pandey (Lessons from My Garden)
i have a life to garden. a multiverse to wake from sleep. — giants
Nayyirah Waheed (Nejma)
Every path we travel has something to teach us and moves us in the direction to achieve our dreams.
Tracy J. Thomas (Zen in the Garden: Finding Peace and Healing Through Nature)
When we choose to live our lives in fear we become convinced that the world is unsafe.
Tracy J. Thomas (Zen in the Garden: Finding Peace and Healing Through Nature)
You may not know the story behind why a song or a garden is so beautiful or why a cake tastes so good but, if you pay enough attention, you can tell how much love is in it.
Catherine Carrigan (What Is Healing? Awaken Your Intuitive Power for Health and Happiness)
Forgiveness doesn’t make one person better, or the other guy smaller. Forgiving is just letting go. It’s turning back toward being what we really are.
Edward Fahey (The Gardens of Ailana)
No matter what steps into our path, we simply need to remember to go with the flow and trust our direction.
Tracy J. Thomas (Zen in the Garden: Finding Peace and Healing Through Nature)
But at a certain point, healing means going out into the world and being in it. This is the hardest part. You can read all you want about how to grow a garden, but until you take yourself down to the plant store and ask for help, invest in some seedlings, and try your luck at keeping them alive, you’re never going to become a gardener. I’m sorry. You can’t be one in your head.
Mari Andrew (My Inner Sky: On Embracing Day, Night, and All the Times in Between)
Rallick will kill you,” Murillio said levelly. “Nonsense.” Kruppe placed the mask over his face. “How will the lad ever recognize Kruppe?” Murillio studied the man’s round body, the faded red waistcoat, gathered cuffs, and the short oily curls atop his head. “Never mind.” He sighed. “Excellent,” Kruppe said. “Now, please accept these two masks, gifts from your friend Kruppe. A trip is saved, and Baruk need not wait any longer for a secret message that must not be mentioned.” He replaced his mask in its box, then spun round to study the eastern skyline. “Off to yon alchemist’s abode, then. Good evening, friend—” “Wait a minute,” Murillio said, grasping Kruppe’s arm and turning him round. “Have you seen Coll?” “Why, of course. The man sleeps a deep, recovering sleep from his ordeals.’Twas healed magically, Sulty said. By some stranger, yet. Coll himself was brought in by yet a second stranger, who found a third stranger, who in turn brought a fifth stranger in the company of the stranger who healed Coll. And so it goes, friend Murillio. Strange doings, indeed. Now, Kruppe must be off. Goodbye, friend—” “Not yet,” Murillio snarled. He glanced around. The street was still empty. He leaned close. “I’ve worked some things out, Kruppe. Circle Breaker contacting me put everything into order in my mind. I know who you are.” “Aaai!” Kruppe cried, withdrawing. “I’ll not deny it, then! It’s true, Murillio, Kruppe is Lady Simtal connivingly disguised.
Steven Erikson (Gardens of the Moon (Malazan Book of the Fallen, #1))
Do crazy things if you must, they told me all the while, forever prying to unearth the mysterious, tel tale signs of heartbreak which, in their clumsy, intrusive, devoted way, both would instantly wish to heal, as if I were a soldier who had strayed into their garden and needed his wound immediately stanched or else he’d die. You can always talk to me. I was your age once, my father used to say. The things you feel and think only you have felt, believe me, I've lived and suffered through all of them, and more than once—some I've never gotten over and others I’m as ignorant about as you are today, yet I know almost every bend, every toll-booth, every chamber in the human heart.
André Aciman (Call Me by Your Name)
For God has comforted Zion, and will take pity on all her waste places; Turning her wilderness into an Eden, her desert into the garden of God. Joy and gladness will be found in her, and thanksgiving, and the sounds of singing.”12
Gerald G. May (Addiction and Grace: Love and Spirituality in the Healing of Addictions)
There is nothing to say except that life is unfair. You will get over it, … but only time will heal your wounds, and then not completely. We just have to made do with what we have left and treasure those around us who are still alive.
Rhys Bowen (The Victory Garden)
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, “What should I do?” and the answer was always, relentlessly, write a book and share it.
Bobbi Junod (Do You Doubt the Daffodil?)
In every era there comes a moment when the collective thoughts, whims, and motivations of a people become so self-absorbed, so malignant, so unheeding that nature itself revolts. Man scars the land such that it finally rebels against him. As thoughts can spread despair and death like seedlings of weeds strewn by the wind, so they eventually draw the Gardener to pluck them out. The vetches must be pulled, roots and all. When this happens, the Medium ceases to bless, and instead, it curses. Instead of healing, it spews poison. It happens swiftly and terribly. The ancients gave it a name, this culling process that blackens the world. They named it after a wasting disease that occurs in once-healthy groves of trees. They called it the Blight.
Jeff Wheeler (The Blight of Muirwood (Legends of Muirwood, #2))
Daddy.” I looked up towards my Heavenly Father in His garden. “Daddy, what is happening?” “Your wounds are the wounds of a great battle, beloved. “The glass that falls from your head is trauma. “The more you play, the more you rest as a little child in My presence, and the more healing of your body and your mind takes place on Earth. “Every time shards of jagged glass fall from your head it means that the trauma is falling from your mind. “Beloved, many in My Church do not yet understand how to heal those that have been wounded in battle. “That is why it is so important that every wounded warrior runs directly to Me. “For in this present Church age it is sometimes I, and I alone, who can bring the healing balm that is essential to heal the wounds of this present age.
Wendy Alec (Visions From Heaven: Visitations to my Father's Chamber)
I encourage you to tend to the garden of your own heart. Plant seeds of love. Let light through. Till the soil in the dark and cut the weeds. Water yourself with kindness and compassion. By healing within, you stop attracting relationships that are unhealthy for you. Love yourself repeatedly until it becomes ritual; if you love yourself first, everything is possible. The cosmic orgasm is possible. I am speaking to everyone, not only singles; it’s easy to forget these steps when you’re in a relationship or partnership.
Shalom Melchizedek (Cosmic Sexuality)
Chorus of Comforters We are gardeners who have no flowers, No herb may be transplanted From yesterday to tomorrow. The sage has faded in the cradles-- Rosemary lost its scent facing the new dead-- Even wormwood was only bitter yesterday. The blossoms of comfort are too small Not enough for the torment of a child's tear. New seed may perhaps be gathered In the heart of a nocturnal singer. Which of us may comfort? In the depth of the defile Between yesterday and tomorrow The cherub stands Grinding the lightnings of sorrow with his wings But his hands hold apart the rocks Of yesterday and tomorrow Like the edges of a wound Which must remain open That may not yet heal. The lightnings of sorrow do not allow The field of forgetting to fall asleep. Which of us may comfort? We are gardeners who have no flowers And stand upon a shining star And weep.
Nelly Sachs (Collected Poems I: (1944-1949))
A long, long time ago…   I’m going to die. And painfully, too, which really wasn’t how she’d pictured spending her day. Gardening, yes. Maybe whipping up a few healing potions. Fooling around with her lover. Getting roasted to a crisp while the townsfolk looked on cheering? Not something she would have fit in to her schedule.
Eve Langlais (A Demon and His Witch (Welcome to Hell, #1))
Healing is comparable to a garden. It needs tended to on a consistent basis. For weeds to be pulled out. The garden needs water and sunshine in effort to grow. Like a lotus flower, you will sprout through the soil, reaching up through the dark water towards the sunlight, stretching to the surface where you will beautifully bloom.
Dana Arcuri (Soul Cry: Releasing & Healing the Wounds of Trauma)
Stop with the consistent interpretation of struggle as purpose. Struggle is not defined as purpose. If you need constant friction to fuel your belief in your primary relationships, there are issues in your mind that you need to give attention to. Our relationships need to be gardens of life; not twisted, mangled vines we have forced to take root and to grow.
C. JoyBell C.
I never knew what Mother knowed, Like how a thread and needle sewed, And how a kiss healed boo-boos fast. Why family knots were made to last. I never knew how Mother saw A caring man in angry pa, A smile beneath the teary gloom, A game inside a messy room. I never knowed what Mother knew, Like how to smile when days were blue, And how to laugh for laughter’s sake, While giving up her slice of cake. I never saw what Mother see’d Like honor pulling garden weeds, Or deep confessions in a look, And hope alive in storybooks. I never knew how Mother knowed To hand out carrots when it snowed, And why hot cocoa liked the rain, While naptime kept a person sane. For mother knowed and see’d it all. A winner in a strike-out ball. A 'yes, please' in a shoulder shrug. A 'love you mostest' in a hug. Perhaps, someday, I’ll come to know What Mother saw and knowed as so. Like how 'I’m right' can be all wrong, And why the night requires a song. But of the things I learned and knew I never doubted one thing true. My mother made it crystal clear, she knowed and loved me ever dear.
Richelle E. Goodrich (Slaying Dragons: Quotes, Poetry, & a few Short Stories for Every Day of the Year)
Gloria put a bowl of stew in Peter's hands. "Eat," she said. Peter raised the spoon to his lips. He chewed. He swallowed. It had been a long time since he had eaten anything besides tiny fish and old bread. And so when Peter had his first bite of stew, it overwhelmed him. The warmth of it, the richness of it, knocked him backward; it was as if a gentle hand had pushed him when he was not expecting it. Everything he had lost came flooding back: the garden, his father, his mother, his sister, the promises that he had made and could not keep. "What's this?" said Gloria Matienne. "The boy is crying." "Shhh," said Leo. He put his hand on Peter's shoulder. "Shhh. Don't worry, Peter. Everything will be good. All will be well. We will do together whatever it is that needs to be done. But for now, you must eat." Peter nodded. He raised his spoon. Again he chewed and swallowed, and again he was overcome. He could not help it. He could not stop the tears; they flowed down his cheeks and into the bowl. "It is a very good stew, Madam Matienne. he managed to say. "Truly, it is an excellent stew.
Kate DiCamillo (The Magician's Elephant)
A BRAVE AND STARTLING TRUTH We, this people, on a small and lonely planet Traveling through casual space Past aloof stars, across the way of indifferent suns To a destination where all signs tell us It is possible and imperative that we learn A brave and startling truth And when we come to it To the day of peacemaking When we release our fingers From fists of hostility And allow the pure air to cool our palms When we come to it When the curtain falls on the minstrel show of hate And faces sooted with scorn are scrubbed clean When battlefields and coliseum No longer rake our unique and particular sons and daughters Up with the bruised and bloody grass To lie in identical plots in foreign soil When the rapacious storming of the churches The screaming racket in the temples have ceased When the pennants are waving gaily When the banners of the world tremble Stoutly in the good, clean breeze When we come to it When we let the rifles fall from our shoulders And children dress their dolls in flags of truce When land mines of death have been removed And the aged can walk into evenings of peace When religious ritual is not perfumed By the incense of burning flesh And childhood dreams are not kicked awake By nightmares of abuse When we come to it Then we will confess that not the Pyramids With their stones set in mysterious perfection Nor the Gardens of Babylon Hanging as eternal beauty In our collective memory Not the Grand Canyon Kindled into delicious color By Western sunsets Nor the Danube, flowing its blue soul into Europe Not the sacred peak of Mount Fuji Stretching to the Rising Sun Neither Father Amazon nor Mother Mississippi who, without favor, Nurture all creatures in the depths and on the shores These are not the only wonders of the world When we come to it We, this people, on this minuscule and kithless globe Who reach daily for the bomb, the blade and the dagger Yet who petition in the dark for tokens of peace We, this people on this mote of matter In whose mouths abide cankerous words Which challenge our very existence Yet out of those same mouths Come songs of such exquisite sweetness That the heart falters in its labor And the body is quieted into awe We, this people, on this small and drifting planet Whose hands can strike with such abandon That in a twinkling, life is sapped from the living Yet those same hands can touch with such healing, irresistible tenderness That the haughty neck is happy to bow And the proud back is glad to bend Out of such chaos, of such contradiction We learn that we are neither devils nor divines When we come to it We, this people, on this wayward, floating body Created on this earth, of this earth Have the power to fashion for this earth A climate where every man and every woman Can live freely without sanctimonious piety Without crippling fear When we come to it We must confess that we are the possible We are the miraculous, the true wonder of this world That is when, and only when We come to it.
Maya Angelou (A Brave and Startling Truth)
You don’t need to be a fortress to be strong. You don’t need to build walls to keep yourself safe. Open the windows and let the breeze breathe life into your bones. Go outside, touch the earth with your bare hands, and remind yourself how it feels to plant the seeds of love and watch them bloom into something beautiful. Water those flowers well; your garden will reawaken in the sun.
Kirsten Robinson (Evergreen)
Necessities for all manner of healing in the herb garden: Hyssop, Wormwood, Rue, Coriander, Pasqueflower, Rosemary, St John’s Wort, Costmary, Lady’s Mantle, Lady’s Bedstraw, Angelica, Heartsease, Lily of the Valley, Marigold, Milk Thistle, Thyme, Sweet Woodruff. To these I plan to add, as time permits: Wood Betony, Comfrey, Coltsfoot, Cowslip, Hawthorn, Lavender, Lemon Balm, Meadowsweet, Sage, Valerian, Yarrow and Winter Savory.
Rhys Bowen (The Victory Garden)
I dedicate my work today to the furtherance of all things good. Whether I am paid or not, whether I am working out in the world or planting my own garden, I dedicate whatever I am doing today to the uplifting of all things. May the activity of my mind and work of my hands be of service to the healing of the world. Today I remember that there is only one work: to be who I am capable of being, to do what I am capable of doing to make the world a better place. May my life be of use to something greater than myself, that I might feel the joy of being used.        Dear God,        Today I dedicate all I am and all that I have,        That love might use me as a conduit of its power.        Illumine my mind and increase my understanding,        Hone my personality and deepen my skills,        That all I do might glorify Your presence in the world.        And so it is.        Amen.
Marianne Williamson (A Year of Miracles: Daily Devotions and Reflections)
After a while you learn the subtle difference Between holding a hand And chaining a soul. And you learn that love doesn’t mean leaning And company doesn’t mean security. And you begin to learn That kisses aren’t compromises And presents aren’t promises. And you begin to accept your defeats With your head up and your eyes ahead With the grace of a woman or a man Not the grief of a child. And you learn to build all your loads on today Because tomorrow’s ground is too uncertain for plans And futures have a way of falling down in midnight. After a while you learn that even sunshine burns if you ask too much. So you plant your own garden And decorate your own soul Instead of waiting for someone to buy you flowers. And you learn that you really can endure That you really are strong. And you really do have worth. And you learn. And you learn. With every failure you learn.   —Anonymous
Maggie Oman Shannon (Prayers for Healing: 365 Blessings, Poems, & Meditations from Around the World)
You must tune everything else out and create from your heart." I nod, dipping my brush in red acrylic, then white, before mixing the paints on the palette until they form a perfect pink. I paint a peony, and then another. I somehow recall a garden, far away from here, where there were (are?) peonies. I remember the way the blossoms are so heavy that they flounce over, and I reach for another brush and dip it into green to get the stems just right.
Sarah Jio (All the Flowers in Paris)
It is possible to think of fragrance existing before a flower was created to contain it, and so it is that God created the world to reveal Himself, to reveal Mercy. Once or twice a year, perhaps three times, a woman visits the garden, her face ancient, the eyes calm but not passive as she approaches the rosewood tree and begins to pick and examine each fallen leaf. Whether she is in possession of her full mental faculties, no one is sure. Perhaps she is sane and just pretending madness for self-protection. Many decades ago - long before the house was built, when this place was just an expanse of wild growth - she had discovered the name of God on a rosewood leaf, the green veins curving into sacred calligraphy. She picks each small leaf now, hoping for a repetition of the miracle, holding it in her palms in a gesture identical to prayer. The life of the house continues around her and occasionally she watches them, following the most ordinary human acts with an attention reserved by others for much greater events. If it is autumn, she has to remain in the garden for hours, following the surge and pull of the wind as it takes the dropped foliage to all corners. Afterwards, as the dusk begins to darken the air, they sit together, she and the tree, until only the tree remains. What need her search fulfils in her is not known. Perhaps healing had existed before wounds and bodies were created to be its recipient.
Nadeem Aslam (The Blind Man's Garden)
The English word Atonement comes from the ancient Hebrew word kaphar, which means to cover. When Adam and Eve partook of the fruit and discovered their nakedness in the Garden of Eden, God sent Jesus to make coats of skins to cover them. Coats of skins don’t grow on trees. They had to be made from an animal, which meant an animal had to be killed. Perhaps that was the very first animal sacrifice. Because of that sacrifice, Adam and Eve were covered physically. In the same way, through Jesus’ sacrifice we are also covered emotionally and spiritually. When Adam and Eve left the garden, the only things they could take to remind them of Eden were the coats of skins. The one physical thing we take with us out of the temple to remind us of that heavenly place is a similar covering. The garment reminds us of our covenants, protects us, and even promotes modesty. However, it is also a powerful and personal symbol of the Atonement—a continuous reminder both night and day that because of Jesus’ sacrifice, we are covered. (I am indebted to Guinevere Woolstenhulme, a religion teacher at BYU, for insights about kaphar.) Jesus covers us (see Alma 7) when we feel worthless and inadequate. Christ referred to himself as “Alpha and Omega” (3 Nephi 9:18). Alpha and omega are the first and last letters of the Greek alphabet. Christ is surely the beginning and the end. Those who study statistics learn that the letter alpha is used to represent the level of significance in a research study. Jesus is also the one who gives value and significance to everything. Robert L. Millet writes, “In a world that offers flimsy and fleeting remedies for mortal despair, Jesus comes to us in our moments of need with a ‘more excellent hope’ (Ether 12:32)” (Grace Works, 62). Jesus covers us when we feel lost and discouraged. Christ referred to Himself as the “light” (3 Nephi 18:16). He doesn’t always clear the path, but He does illuminate it. Along with being the light, He also lightens our loads. “For my yoke is easy,” He said, “and my burden is light” (Matthew 11:30). He doesn’t always take burdens away from us, but He strengthens us for the task of carrying them and promises they will be for our good. Jesus covers us when we feel abused and hurt. Joseph Smith taught that because Christ met the demands of justice, all injustices will be made right for the faithful in the eternal scheme of things (see Teachings, 296). Marie K. Hafen has said, “The gospel of Jesus Christ was not given us to prevent our pain. The gospel was given us to heal our pain” (“Eve Heard All These Things,” 27). Jesus covers us when we feel defenseless and abandoned. Christ referred to Himself as our “advocate” (D&C 29:5): one who believes in us and stands up to defend us. We read, “The Lord is my rock, and my fortress, and my deliverer; my God, my strength, in whom I will trust; my buckler” (Psalm 18:2). A buckler is a shield used to divert blows. Jesus doesn’t always protect us from unpleasant consequences of illness or the choices of others, since they are all part of what we are here on earth to experience. However, He does shield us from fear in those dark times and delivers us from having to face those difficulties alone. … We’ve already learned that the Hebrew word that is translated into English as Atonement means “to cover.” In Arabic or Aramaic, the verb meaning to atone is kafat, which means “to embrace.” Not only can we be covered, helped, and comforted by the Savior, but we can be “encircled about eternally in the arms of his love” (2 Nephi 1:15). We can be “clasped in the arms of Jesus” (Mormon 5:11). In our day the Savior has said, “Be faithful and diligent in keeping the commandments of God, and I will encircle thee in the arms of my love” (D&C 6:20). (Brad Wilcox, The Continuous Atonement, pp. 47-49, 60).
Brad Wilcox
In seconds, the room flooded with wide-eyed girls wanting to meet the artist of the butterfly stories. Stories about healing and redemption. Love and friendship. Stories about shifting shadows and an armory full of color to drive the darkness away. "Emerald Dawn rises early before her sisters wake. With her smile, she charms the sun and chases clouds away. Diamonds hide among the silvery dew. Rubies shimmer in the roses. And she tiptoes through the castle garden to find their hiding spaces.
Melanie Dobson (Shadows of Ladenbrooke Manor)
She remembered asking Grandma Howard once the best time to pray. Her grandmother had said, "There's no right or wrong time. Anytime can be the best time. Or all the time. Me, I'm partial to walking prayers." "Walking prayers?" That had been a puzzle to Fran. "Those a people can say while she's busy doing what has to be done. Like when I'm walking to the barn or the garden. Grabbing minutes with the Lord. His children don't have to set up appointments for him to pay attention. He's always ready to bend down his ear to us.
Ann H. Gabhart (These Healing Hills)
Sabbaths, 1982—IV   (“A gardener rises out of the ground”) Thrush song, stream song, holy love That flows through earthly forms and folds, The song of Heaven’s Sabbath fleshed In throat and ear, in stream and stone, A grace living here as we live, Move my mind now to that which holds Things as they change. The warmth has come. The doors have opened. Flower and song Embroider ground and air, lead me Beside the healing field that waits; Growth, death, and a restoring form Of human use will make it well. But I go on, beyond, higher In the hill’s fold, forget the time I come from and go to, recall This grove left out of all account, A place enclosed in song. Design Now falls from thought. I go amazed Into the maze of a design That mind can follow but not know, Apparent, plain, and yet unknown, The outline lost in earth and sky. What form wakens and rumples this? Be still. A man who seems to be A gardener rises out of the ground, Stands like a tree, shakes off the dark, The bluebells opening at his feet, The light a figured cloth of song.
Wendell Berry (A Timbered Choir: The Sabbath Poems 1979-1997)
It’s a weapon on the other side. It leaps quicker than light from the highest place to the lowest to bring healing and joy, whatever the cost to itself. It changes darkness into light [112] and evil into good. But it will not, at the cunning tears of Hell, impose on good the tyranny of evil. Every disease that submits to a cure shall be cured: but we will not call blue yellow to please those who insist on still having jaundice, nor make a midden of the world’s garden for the sake of some who cannot abide the smell of roses.
C.S. Lewis (The Great Divorce)
His hand caressed her back. “You know what saved me through my years in the battalion and in prison?” he said. “You. I thought, if you could get out of Russia, through Finland, through the war, pregnant, with a dying doctor, with nothing but yourself, I could survive this. If you could get through Leningrad, as you every single morning got up and slid down the ice on the stairs to get your family water and their daily bread, I thought, I could get through this. If you survived that I could survive this.” “You don’t even know how badly I did the first years. You wouldn’t believe it if I told you.” “You had my son. I had nothing else but you, and how you walked with me through Leningrad, across the Neva and Lake Ladoga and held my open back together and clotted my wounds, and washed my burns, and healed me, and saved me. I was hungry and you fed me. I had nothing but Lazarevo.” Alexander’s voice broke. “And your immortal blood. Tatiana, you were my only life force. You have no idea how hard I tried to get to you again. I gave myself up to the enemy, to the Germans for you. I got shot at for you and beaten for you and betrayed for you and convicted for you. All I wanted was to see you again. That you came back for me, it’s everything, Tatia. Don’t you understand? The rest is nothing to me. Germany, Kolyma, Dimitri, Nikolai Ouspensky, the Soviet Union, all of it, nothing. Forget them all, let them all go. You hear?” “I hear,” Tatiana said. We walk alone through this world, but if we’re lucky, we have a moment of belonging to something, to someone, that sustains us through a lifetime of loneliness. For an evening minute I touched him again and grew red wings and was young again in the Summer Garden, and had hope and eternal life.
Paullina Simons (Tatiana and Alexander (The Bronze Horseman, #2))
What is this food in my head, anyway? Let’s’s green and good for you and so delicious. It’s prepared by angels with love. The minute you bite into it, it’s savory, chewy, nourishing, and whole- some. You feel instantly revitalized. A small, tiny amount, just a few bites, rejuvenates every cell, deepens your breath, clears your mind, heals your wounds, and mends your heart. It’s made from joyous plants that voluntarily separate themselves from their stalks, laying themselves at the feet of the approaching gardener who gathers them. They eagerly offer their vital energies to nourish living spirits. The angels in their chef hats, singing mantras, cook it tenderly to retain all the benefits of the generous plants. It’s barely sweet, barely salty, and contains all the freshness of spring herbs, summer fruit, spreading leaves, and burgeoning seeds. It comes premade in bags or just open it up, sit down, and enjoy. It’s a full meal, enough maybe for a whole day, maybe for a week, maybe for your family, maybe for your friends and neighbors. It multiplies like loaves and fishes, in little biodegradable containers that vaporize instantly the moment you finish them, without any greenhouse emissions. Nothing to clean up!
Kimber Simpkins (Full: How one woman found yoga, eased her inner hunger, and started loving herself)
All France, it has often been said, is a garden, and if you love France, as I do, it can be a very beautiful garden. For myself I found it healing and soothing to the spirit; I recovered from the shocks and bruises which I had received in my own country. But there comes a day, when you are well again and strong, when this atmosphere ceases to be nourishing. You long to break out and test your powers. Then the French spirit seems inadequate. You long to make friends, to create enemies, to look beyond walls and cultivated patches of earth. You want to cease thinking in terms of life insurance, sick benefits, old age pensions and so on.
Henry Miller (The Colossus of Maroussi)
•​Offering gratitude •​Recording and tending to dreams •​Fresh air and sunshine •​Smiling at a stranger •​Gardening •​Beauty, flowers, color, trees •​Sitting near a body of water, or immersing yourself in one •​Walking and talking with a close friend •​Taking the long way home •​Meandering •​Encountering a wild animal •​Pets •​Reading a poem, and writing one •​Drawing, painting, writing, dancing, singing, chanting •​Being in nature •​Autumn colors, snowfall, spring buds •​Walking in the rain •​Talking to the moon •​Looking at the stars •​Listening to crickets •​Candlelight •​Baths •​Stillness, silence, and solitude •​Doing less and being more •​Being in silence •​Meaningful rituals
Sheryl Paul (The Wisdom of Anxiety: How Worry and Intrusive Thoughts Are Gifts to Help You Heal)
It is no accident that the Atonement will begin, as did the Fall, in a Garden. And it is no accident as well that the individuals in those gardens were each sinless, or that the events in those gardens centered on their exercise of agency-for Adam, whether he would partake of the bitter fruit, and for the Savior, whether He would partake of the bitter cup. The Savior and Adam faced a similar choice: If they did not partake, they would become lone men in paradise. Both partook that man might be. And by partaking of that bitterness, Adam came to know good and evil, and the Savior came to know all of the good and evil that had and would transpire in the hearts of mean through all generations of time.
James L. Ferrell (The Peacegiver: How Christ Offers to Heal Our Hearts and Homes)
Gardening Work There was a man breaking up the ground, getting ready to plant, when another man came by, "Why are you ruining this land?" "Don't interfere. Nothing can grow here until the earth is turned over and crumbled. There can be no roses and no orchard without first this devastation. You must lance an ulcer to heal. You must tear down parts of an old building to restore it." So it is with the sensual life that has no spirit. A person must face the dragon of his or her appetites with another dragon, the life energy of the soul. When that's not strong, everyone seems to be full of fear and wanting, as one thinks the room is spinning when one's whirling around. If your love has contracted into anger, the atmosphere itself feels threatening, but when you're expansive and clear, no matter what the weather, you're in an open windy field with friends. Many people travel as far as Syria and Iraq and meet only hypocrites. Others go all the way to India and see only people buying and selling. Others travel to Turkestan and China to discover those countries are full of cheats and sneak thieves. You always see the qualities that live in you. A cow may walk through the amazing city of Baghdad and notice only a watermelon rind and a tuft of hay that fell off a wagon. Don't repeatedly keep doing what your lowest self wants. That's like deciding to be a strip of meat nailed to dry on a board in the sun.
Rumi (The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems)
Everything the Kiowas had came from the buffalo.… Most of all, the buffalo was part of the Kiowa religion. A white buffalo calf must be sacrificed in the Sun Dance. The priests used parts of the buffalo to make their prayers when they healed people or when they sang to the powers above. So, when the white men wanted to build railroads, or when they wanted to farm or raise cattle, the buffalo still protected the Kiowas. They tore up the railroad tracks and the gardens. They chased the cattle off the ranges. The buffalo loved their people as much as the Kiowas loved them. There was war between the buffalo and the white men. The white men built forts in the Kiowa country, and the woolly-headed buffalo soldiers shot the buffalo as fast as they could, but the buffalo kept coming on, coming on, even into the post cemetery at Fort Sill. Soldiers were not enough to hold them back. Then the white men hired hunters to do nothing but kill the buffalo. Up and down the plains those men ranged, shooting sometimes as many as a hundred buffalo a day. Behind them came the skinners with their wagons. They piled the hides and bones into the wagons until they were full, and then took their loads to the new railroad stations that were being built, to be shipped east to the market. Sometimes there would be a pile of bones as high as a man, stretching a mile along the railroad track. The buffalo saw that their day was over. They could protect their people no longer.
Roxanne Dunbar-Ortiz (An Indigenous Peoples' History of the United States (ReVisioning American History, #3))
Our appreciation for what Christ did for us will fall abysmally short if we think that he fell on his face merely at the prospect of suffering for a few mortal hours, however excruciating that suffering might be. Both in impact, kind, and degree, what happens in Gethsemane cannot be marked merely by the clock of this fallen realm. Indeed, its impact could be felt from the days of Adam and Eve, even though by the reckoning of this earth it hadn't yet happened. The Atonement happened as much outside this time as within it, thought what was outside we cannot hope to grasp. It was and is an infinite eternal act, unbounded by the limitations of mortality. No wonder the Savior trembled at the thought of it, and 'would that he might not drink the bitter cup.' Mortal minds, with their earth-bound limitation, cannot comprehend the immensity of it.
James L. Ferrell (The Peacegiver: How Christ Offers to Heal Our Hearts and Homes)
But after a couple of weeks of listing things I was grateful for, I came to see that the little things were everything. The little things were what I held on to at the end of the day. Single jokes that gave me the giggles. A beautiful flower arrangement, viewed through the window of a café. The fact that my cat came to cuddle me when she saw I was sad. These things gave me hope, pleasure, solace. Together, they added up to a fulfilling life. If a simple flower arrangement could make this world just a little more bearable, then perhaps my own small actions meant more than I was giving them credit for. Maybe when I made dinner, or listened to a friend rant, or complimented a woman on her incredible garden, I was helping make this world survivable for others. Perhaps that evening, when tallying up their own wins and losses for the day, someone would think of something I’d done and smile.
Stephanie Foo (What My Bones Know: A Memoir of Healing from Complex Trauma)
The relief Kieran felt was staggering. The sick-satisfaction of justice burned through him like an oil spill, waiting for him to drop a match, to let it all go up in flames as he laughed through the rain of hellfire. But he didn’t. He pocketed the metaphysical match. He vacuumed the torrential oil spill. He had just turned his wasteland into a rain forest; he would not let his resentment burn down the trees he had grown out of the garden of his own mind. Kieran himself had come too far to let the angry hand of vengeance burn away his fertile terrains, ruin his harvests of the pure flora kingdom and slaughter his animals to ribbons in sacrifice to greater demons whose jaws never shut. Homeostasis was a hard-earned tendency. Bonfires were clumsy and unwarranted; if he let it consume him and everything he’d built, all he had cultivated would be for nothing. He did not want his flowers to die.
Grace Curley (The Light that Binds Us)
The severe frost last February destroyed many branches as well as young trees that had already been full of sap as a result of the warm weather. In addition to this punishment by God, there is another one, namely, an unbelievable number of caterpillar-type worms which do very great damage to our wheat, barley, and oats. They also eat down to the ground the Indian corn sprouts and whatever young plants we have in our gardens. It would be even worse except for the birds, particularly the starlings, which fly over the fields in large numbers and eat the worms. . . . Last month the unusually large number of worms threatened to ruin our crops completely, but it pleased God (for, according to the Second Book of Chronicles 7:13, He commands the locusts to devour the land and, according to Verse 14, He promises to heal it) that a large number of starlings and other small birds came to the fields and gradually ate all the worms. Thanks be to God for His merciful regime!
Johann Martin Boltzius
Whenever Spirit used to show me a horse, it usually meant that someone liked horses, was an equestrian, or bet the horses. But one day, I went through all the meanings with a client, and when he didn’t connect with any of them, Spirit showed me the strangest thing—an outline of New Jersey. So just like that, horses also began to symbolize the Garden State. Why? Beats me, but if it works for Spirit, it works for me. I went through the same process with oatmeal. It was always a symbol that meant someone liked to eat the gloppy cereal—obvious enough. But then once when I said that in a session, the client said no, so Spirit then made me feel like I was pacing up and down a driveway every day. I asked the woman if the deceased was very regimented, and when she said yes, Spirit established that oatmeal would now mean that the person really liked oatmeal and/or that the person liked a routine. Seems random to us, but listen, maybe Spirit thinks it takes a lot of discipline to eat a bowl of Quaker Oats!
Theresa Caputo (There's More to Life Than This: Healing Messages, Remarkable Stories, and Insight About the Other Side from the Long Island Medium)
Seeing the life force in human beings brings medicine [and education and healing] closer to gardening than to carpentry. I don't fix a rosebush. A rosebush is a living process, and as a student of that process, I can learn to prune, to nurture and cooperate with it in ways that allow it best to 'happen,' to maximize the life force in it even in the presence of disease [and difficulty and pain]. Simply trusting process has a great power. A colleague of mine was telling me about the birth of her grandchild. At one point in a long and difficult labor, her daughter had called out to her for help. My colleague experienced this as a moment of impotence, feeling that there was nothing that she could do to fix things. She had sat there holding her child's hand, trusting the process of birth and feeling that this was not enough. But perhaps it is. The trust of process that comes from personal knowledge and experience is really the foundation of helping and comforting one another. Without it all of our actions are driven by fear. Fear is the friction in all transitions.
Rachel Naomi Remen (Kitchen Table Wisdom: Stories that Heal)
We may find ourselves in a role similar to that of a gardener as we cultivate a space in which healing can naturally unfold. In terms of neurobiology, this stance encourages us to lean into the reassuring awareness that our systems already contain seeds awaiting our attention. For some examples, we humans are always seeking the warmest possible attachments we can imagine (Cozolino, Siegel), our brains are continuously yearning for the arrival of a co-organizing other (Badenoch, Cozolino, Schore), emotional regulation flows naturally from being in the presence of someone we trust (Beckes & Coan) and even our nervous systems have a preference for the social engagement circuitry that sustains connection (Porges). With this kind of support from the biology inherent in both practitioner and patient, our bodies may begin to open into a welcoming state as others come towards us, with a sense of partnership being established rather than someone doing something to us. However this also means letting go of the potential certainty that comes from feeling we are in charge.
Bonnie Badenoch (The Heart of Trauma: Healing the Embodied Brain in the Context of Relationships)
Come on, I want to take you around to the back, to see St. Anthony's Garden," he said. Delicate bell clangs marked the half hour, and a mockingbird called through the still air as the group entered the garden. The green space was dominated by the tall white statue of a man with arms raised in welcome. "St. Anthony is known as the protector of childless women and finder of lost things," explained Falkner. "This area has had many functions over the years. It was a place for gatherings, markets, meals---even a dueling ground. Père Antoine, one of the cathedral's popular pastors, used the space as a kitchen garden to feed his monks. He also worked with voodoo priestess Marie Laveau to assist the large slave population, especially women and children." "A Roman Catholic priest collaborating with a voodoo priestess?" asked one of the tourists, mopping his brow with a handkerchief. Falkner nodded. "They had more in common than you may think. They both had a desire to heal, sooth, and do good works. They were both very spiritual people. Marie Laveau blended voodoo with Catholicism, especially regarding the saints.
Mary Jane Clark (That Old Black Magic (Wedding Cake Mystery, #4))
Ode to the Beloved’s Hips" Bells are they—shaped on the eighth day—silvered percussion in the morning—are the morning. Swing switch sway. Hold the day away a little longer, a little slower, a little easy. Call to me— I wanna rock, I-I wanna rock, I-I wanna rock right now—so to them I come—struck-dumb chime-blind, tolling with a throat full of Hosanna. How many hours bowed against this Infinity of Blessed Trinity? Communion of Pelvis, Sacrum, Femur. My mouth—terrible angel, ever-lasting novena, ecstatic devourer. O, the places I have laid them, knelt and scooped the amber—fast honey—from their openness— Ah Muzen Cab’s hidden Temple of Tulúm—licked smooth the sticky of her hip—heat-thrummed ossa coxae. Lambent slave to ilium and ischium—I never tire to shake this wild hive, split with thumb the sweet- dripped comb—hot hexagonal hole—dark diamond— to its nectar-dervished queen. Meanad tongue— come-drunk hum-tranced honey-puller—for her hips, I am—strummed-song and succubus. They are the sign: hip. And the cosign: a great book— the body’s Bible opened up to its Good News Gospel. Alleluias, Ave Marías, madre mías, ay yay yays, Ay Dios míos, and hip-hip-hooray. Cult of Coccyx. Culto de cadera. Oracle of Orgasm. Rorschach’s riddle: What do I see? Hips: Innominate bone. Wish bone. Orpheus bone. Transubstantiation bone—hips of bread, wine-whet thighs. Say the word and healed I shall be: Bone butterfly. Bone wings. Bone Ferris wheel. Bone basin bone throne bone lamp. Apparition in the bone grotto—6th mystery— slick rosary bead—Déme la gracia of a decade in this garden of carmine flower. Exile me to the enormous orchard of Alcinous—spiced fruit, laden-tree—Imparadise me. Because, God, I am guilty. I am sin-frenzied and full of teeth for pear upon apple upon fig. More than all that are your hips. They are a city. They are Kingdom— Troy, the hollowed horse, an army of desire— thirty soldiers in the belly, two in the mouth. Beloved, your hips are the war. At night your legs, love, are boulevards leading me beggared and hungry to your candy house, your baroque mansion. Even when I am late and the tables have been cleared, in the kitchen of your hips, let me eat cake. O, constellation of pelvic glide—every curve, a luster, a star. More infinite still, your hips are kosmic, are universe—galactic carousel of burning comets and Big Big Bangs. Millennium Falcon, let me be your Solo. O, hot planet, let me circumambulate. O, spiral galaxy, I am coming for your dark matter. Along las calles de tus muslos I wander— follow the parade of pulse like a drum line— descend into your Plaza del Toros— hands throbbing Miura bulls, dark Isleros. Your arched hips—ay, mi torera. Down the long corridor, your wet walls lead me like a traje de luces—all glitter, glowed. I am the animal born to rush your rich red muletas—each breath, each sigh, each groan, a hooked horn of want. My mouth at your inner thigh—here I must enter you—mi pobre Manolete—press and part you like a wound— make the crowd pounding in the grandstand of your iliac crest rise up in you and cheer.
Natalie Díaz
We’ve been instructed to reject any trace of poetry, myth, hyperbole, or symbolism even when those literary forms are virtually shouting at us from the page via talking snakes and enchanted trees. That’s because there’s a curious but popular notion circulating around the church these days that says God would never stoop to using ancient genre categories to communicate. Speaking to ancient people using their own language, literary structures, and cosmological assumptions would be beneath God, it is said, for only our modern categories of science and history can convey the truth in any meaningful way. In addition to once again prioritizing modern, Western (and often uniquely American) concerns, this notion overlooks one of the most central themes of Scripture itself: God stoops. From walking with Adam and Eve through the garden of Eden, to traveling with the liberated Hebrew slaves in a pillar of cloud and fire, to slipping into flesh and eating, laughing, suffering, healing, weeping, and dying among us as part of humanity, the God of Scripture stoops and stoops and stoops and stoops. At the heart of the gospel message is the story of a God who stoops to the point of death on a cross. Dignified or not, believable or not, ours is a God perpetually on bended knee, doing everything it takes to convince stubborn and petulant children that they are seen and loved. It is no more beneath God to speak to us using poetry, proverb, letters, and legend than it is for a mother to read storybooks to her daughter at bedtime. This is who God is. This is what God does.
Rachel Held Evans (Inspired: Slaying Giants, Walking on Water, and Loving the Bible Again (series_title))
AS SHE HEALED, the women changed tactics and stopped their berating. Now they brought their embroidery and crocheting, and finally they used Ethel Fordham’s house as their quilting center. Ignoring those who preferred new, soft blankets, they practiced what they had been taught by their mothers during the period that rich people called the Depression and they called life. Surrounded by their comings and goings, listening to their talk, their songs, following their instructions, Cee had nothing to do but pay them the attention she had never given them before. They were nothing like Lenore, who’d driven Salem hard, and now, suffering a minor stroke, did nothing at all. Although each of her nurses was markedly different from the others in looks, dress, manner of speech, food and medical preferences, their similarities were glaring. There was no excess in their gardens because they shared everything. There was no trash or garbage in their homes because they had a use for everything. They took responsibility for their lives and for whatever, whoever else needed them. The absence of common sense irritated but did not surprise them. Laziness was more than intolerable to them; it was inhuman. Whether you were in the field, the house, your own backyard, you had to be busy. Sleep was not for dreaming; it was for gathering strength for the coming day. Conversation was accompanied by tasks: ironing, peeling, shucking, sorting, sewing, mending, washing, or nursing. You couldn’t learn age, but adulthood was there for all. Mourning was helpful but God was better and they did not want to meet their Maker and have to explain a wasteful life. They knew He would ask each of them one question: “What have you done?” (122-123)
Toni Morrison (Home)
I am in no rush. Let Life happen to me just as Life has planned. Because at the end of the day, when the sun sets there is always a horizon somewhere waiting to call forth another sun, in a paradox of Time. Because at the end of each chapter, the story walks towards its culmination. But just like it is not in the setting or rising of the sun but in the sunshine that one basks, just like it is not the finishing line but the voyage through the storyline where one finds the true understanding of the book, Life is about exploring the voyage all the while knowing full well that each chapter shall find its beginning middle and end just how it's meant to be. It is about the truth that Life is but a dream in Time's illusion and the only sharp truth is to love and be loved, and through that assemble moments in Time that smile beyond Time, to make a garden of experiences through lessons and understandings that Life puts at our journey only to walk us closer to our destination. It is not about the destination rather about the journey, and perhaps about who we share the journey with at each crossroad. And no matter how Time walks by, until and unless we cross all the alleys along the way, until and unless we climb up the peak bit by bit, we cannot reach that destination where we belong. But if we tread along the mountain peak or a winding alley soaking in all the freshness of the air enjoying the crispness of our walk, the journey becomes even more enriching not just to our soul but to all of our senses and our very heart. While if we try to run along the way, we might actually topple down a bad turn, taking in a scar that might demand another cup of our soul's portion to heal. Such is Life. A journey that takes smiles and tears, a voyage that bathes in hope and hopelessness, but in all of it, it never stays stagnant, always tiptoeing to exactly where we are meant to be, at any point of our journey. So when something seems to go stagnant or few things make no sense, I tell myself to pause and pat my soul acknowledging each and every decision or detour of mine as part and parcel of Life's plan. I close my eyes and breathe in the freshness of air that flows in every part of my soul to know, to feel alive to all that this journey has shared with me, while believing in the grace and magnanimity of Time who takes Time but eventually shows and leads us to where we belong. And I hear my heart smiling, Let Life happen to me just as Life has planned. I am in no rush.
Debatrayee Banerjee
Okay, I’m going to tell you what I think. It’s like this,” he said grimly. “Quit or don’t quit. Take the promotion or not take it. But, if you take the graveyard shift, mark my words, we will eventually—I don’t know how, and I don’t know when—live to regret it.” Without saying another word he walked inside. In bed Alexander let her kiss his hands. He was on his back, and Tatiana sidled up to him naked, kneeling by his side. Taking his hands, she kissed them slowly, digit by digit, knuckle by knuckle, pressing them to her trembling breasts, but when she opened her mouth to speak, Alexander took his hands away. “I know what you’re about to do,” he said. “I’ve been there a thousand times. Go ahead. Touch me. Caress me. Whisper to me. Tell me first you don’t see my scars anymore, then make it all right. You always do, you always manage to convince me that whatever crazy plan you have is really the best for you and me,” he said. “Returning to blockaded Leningrad, escaping to Sweden, Finland, running to Berlin, the graveyard shift. I know what’s coming. Go ahead, I’ll be good to you right back. You’re going to try to make me all right with you staying in Leningrad when I tell you that to save your hard-headed skull you must return to Lazarevo? You want to convince me that escaping through enemy territory across Finland’s iced-over marsh while pregnant is the only way for us? Please. You want to tell me that working all Friday night and not sleeping in my bed is the best thing for our family? Try. I know eventually you’ll succeed.” He was staring at her blonde and lowered head. “Even if you don’t,” he continued, “I know eventually, you’ll do what you want anyway. I don’t want you to do it. You know you should be resigning, not working graveyard—nomenclature, by the way, that I find ironic for more reasons that I care to go into. I’m telling you here and now, the path you’re taking us on is going to lead to chaos and discord not order and accord. It’s your choice, though. This defines you—as a nurse, as a woman, as a wife—pretend servitude. But you can’t fool me. You and I both know what you’re made of underneath the velvet glove: cast iron.” When Tatiana said nothing, Alexander brought her to him and laid her on his chest. “You gave me too much leeway with Balkman,” he said, kissing her forehead. “You kept your mouth shut too long, but I’ve learned from your mistake. I’m not keeping mine shut—I’m telling you right from the start: you’re choosing unwisely. You are not seeing the future. But you do what you want.” Kneeling next to him, she cupped him below the groin into one palm, kneading him gently, and caressed him back and forth with the other. “Yes,” he said, putting his arms under his head and closing his eyes. “You know I love that, your healing stroke. I’m in your hands.” She kissed him and whispered to him, and told him she didn’t see his scars anymore, and made it if not all right then at least forgotten for the next few hours of darkness.
Paullina Simons (The Summer Garden (The Bronze Horseman, #3))
Antonia Valleau cast the first shovelful of dirt onto her husband’s fur-shrouded body, lying in the grave she’d dug in their garden plot, the only place where the soil wasn’t still rock hard. I won’t be breakin’ down. For the sake of my children, I must be strong. Pain squeezed her chest like a steel trap. She had to force herself to take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of loam and pine. I must be doing this. She drove the shovel into the soil heaped next to the grave, hefted the laden blade, and dumped the earth over Jean-Claude, trying to block out the thumping sound the soil made as it covered him. Even as Antonia scooped and tossed, her muscles aching from the effort, her heart stayed numb, and her mind kept playing out the last sight of her husband. The memory haunting her, she paused to catch her breath and wipe the sweat off her brow, her face hot from exertion in spite of the cool spring air. Antonia touched the tips of her dirty fingers to her lips. She could still feel the pressure of Jean-Claude’s mouth on hers as he’d kissed her before striding out the door for a day of hunting. She’d held up baby Jacques, and Jean-Claude had tapped his son’s nose. Jacques had let out a belly laugh that made his father respond in kind. Her heart had filled with so much love and pride in her family that she’d chuckled, too. Stepping outside, she’d watched Jean-Claude ruffle the dark hair of their six-year-old, Henri. Then he strode off, whistling, with his rifle carried over his shoulder. She’d thought it would be a good day—a normal day. She assumed her husband would return to their mountain home in the afternoon before dusk as he always did, unless he had a longer hunt planned. As Antonia filled the grave, she denied she was burying her husband. Jean-Claude be gone a checkin’ the trap line, she told herself, flipping the dirt onto his shroud. She moved through the nightmare with leaden limbs, a knotted stomach, burning dry eyes, and a throat that felt as though a log had lodged there. While Antonia shoveled, she kept glancing at her little house, where, inside, Henri watched over the sleeping baby. From the garden, she couldn’t see the doorway. She worried about her son—what the glimpse of his father’s bloody body had done to the boy. Mon Dieu, she couldn’t stop to comfort him. Not yet. Henri had promised to stay inside with the baby, but she didn’t know how long she had before Jacques woke up. Once she finished burying Jean-Claude, Antonia would have to put her sons on a mule and trek to where she’d found her husband’s body clutched in the great arms of the dead grizzly. She wasn’t about to let his last kill lie there for the animals and the elements to claim. Her family needed that meat and the fur. She heard a sleepy wail that meant Jacques had awakened. Just a few more shovelfuls. Antonia forced herself to hurry, despite how her arms, shoulders, and back screamed in pain. When she finished the last shovelful of earth, exhausted, Antonia sank to her knees, facing the cabin, her back to the grave, placing herself between her sons and where their father lay. She should go to them, but she was too depleted to move.
Debra Holland (Healing Montana Sky (Montana Sky, #5))
So his armorbearer said to [Jonathan], “Do all that is in your heart. Go then; here I am with you, according to your heart.” 1 SAMUEL 14:7 Five simple monosyllables—“here I am with you”—but they helped make the difference between success and failure. Jonathan had already won a battle, for which his father, King Saul, took the credit (1 Sam. 13:1–4), but he didn’t care who got the credit so long as God received the glory and Israel was protected. As God’s people, we have always been in conflict with the enemies of the Lord and we have always been outnumbered. There were three kinds of Israelites on the battlefield that day, just as there are three kinds of “Christian soldiers” in the church today. There are those who do nothing. King Saul was sitting under a tree, surrounded by six hundred soldiers, wondering what to do next. Leaders are supposed to use their offices and not just fill them (1 Tim. 3:13). God had given Saul position and authority but he seemed to have no vision, power, or strategy. He was watching things happen instead of making things happen, and spectators don’t make much progress in life. Along with Saul and his small army were a number of Israelites who had fled the battlefield and hidden themselves, and some had even surrendered to the enemy! When Jonathan and his armorbearer started defeating the Philistines and the Lord shook the enemy camp, these quitters came out into the open and joined in the battle. Do you know any Christians like that? Are you one of them? There are those who fear nothing. Jonathan had already won a battle against the Philistines and was a man of faith who was certain that the God of Israel would give his people victory. Perhaps he was leaning on God’s promises in Leviticus 26:7–8, “You will chase your enemies, and they shall fall by the sword before you. Five of you shall chase a hundred, and a hundred of you shall put ten thousand to flight.” He assured his armorbearer that “nothing restrains the LORD from saving by many or by few” (1 Sam. 14:6). Jonathan expected God to give him a sign that his strategy was right, and God did just that (vv. 9–14). God also caused an earthquake in the enemy camp that made the Philistines panic, and they began to attack each other; and the enemy army began to melt away (v. 16). There are those who hold back nothing. Jonathan’s armorbearer is mentioned nine times in this narrative but his name is never revealed. Like many people in Scripture, he did his job well but must remain anonymous until he is rewarded in heaven. Think of the lad who gave his lunch to Jesus and he fed five thousand people (John 6:8–11), or the Jewish girl who sent Naaman to Elisha to be healed of his leprosy (2 Kings 5:1–4), or Paul’s nephew whose fast action saved Paul’s life (Acts 23:16–22). The armorbearer encouraged Jonathan and promised to stand by him. All leaders, no matter how successful, need others at their side who can help expedite their plans. Aaron and Hur held up Moses’s hands as he prayed for Joshua and the Jewish army in battle (Exod. 17:8–16), and Jesus asked Peter, James, and John to watch with him as he prayed in the garden (Matt. 26:36–46). Blessed are those leaders who have dependable associates whose hearts are one with theirs and who hold back nothing but devotedly say, “I am with you.” Jesus says that to us and he will help us to say it to others. I am with you always, even to the end of the age. Matthew 28:20
Warren W. Wiersbe (Old Testament Words for Today: 100 Devotional Reflections)
Annie, today I went outside and in the snow in the courtyard outside my dorm I built a replica of my childhood monster and wished you were with me. My snow monster was pure and white and guiltless, and I looked at it, Annie, and it struck me that it can never turn black and ugly like the monster of my childhood, because what is guiltless about it is what it is, not necessarily what it does. Even if sometimes what it does it bad, or cowardly, or foolish, it itself is okay, not evil.
Nancy Garden (Annie on My Mind)
Mama's embroidery was right. Your mind is like a garden. Plant flowers so weeds can't grow. I am planting flowers and brushing away the weeds. I am calling on the world to join me. If humans can do the worst acts, we can also do the best. This world could use a lot more healing.
Danica Davidson (I Will Protect You: A True Story of Twins Who Survived Auschwitz)
Kundalini Christianity is Another Obvious Heresy that Has Entered the Church: Phillip St. Romain is a Catholic counselor at Heartland Spirituality Center in Great Bend, Kansas (1). This group integrates contemplative prayer (meditation) within their program (2). In Kundalini Energy and Christian Spirituality, Philip St. Romain claims that meditation, which awakens Kundalini energy is compatible with Christianity. Yet, before his spiritual crises, which began in 1986, Mr. St. Romain had never heard of the Kundalini and could not find any Christian literature to guide him through this experience (3). He could not find Christian literature on kundalini because Christianity forbids Eastern meditation techniques. However, Hindus claim that through meditation, they may awaken the inner fire of Kundalini, which lies coiled and dormant at the base of the spine. Then this energy migrates, through chakras as it activates them along the way. Then, the goddess Shakti meets Shiva at the crown of the head, and their spiritual wedding transpires. Then, devotees realize they are divine (gods) (4). This is the first lie that the serpent told Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. He said, “For God doth know that in the day ye eat thereof, then your eyes shall be opened, and ye shall be as gods, knowing good and evil” (Genesis 3:5, KJV). References: 1. “Spiritual Oasis for Souls.” Heartland Center for Spirituality, 2. “Who are the Dominican Sisters.” Becoming Dominican. 3. St. Romain, Philip. Kundalini Energy and Christian Spirituality: A Pathway to Growth & Healing. Lulu Publishing, 2010, pp. 10-12, 52, 5. 4. Klostermaier, Klaus. A Survey of Hinduism. 2007, pp. 218-221.
Philip St. Romain
Visualize. Here’s a visualization practice my friend and mentor Pia taught me: Find a comfortable chair and sit upright. Take 10 deep breaths, relax your shoulders, and clear your mind. Visualize walking through a forest, or a field of cornstalks, or a lush garden. Visualize coming to an open beach. Hold that scene in your mind’s eye for as long as you can, and see what emerges. Objects or people that emerge from the left represent the past. Those from the right represent the future. Record the images in your journal. Writing helps to consolidate the experience. Do timed automatic writings to quiet your rational mind. See 13. Survive love and loss for directions. Record your dreams in a journal. Note patterns, repetitions, symbols, and archetypes, rather than literal events. Before sleep, invite your subconscious for revelation through dreams. Pay attention to your body’s signals: twinges, goosebumps, or nausea, for example. Intuitive signals tend to be fleeting, whereas signals that represent physical imbalances or disease tend to be longer-lasting. Enlist the gift of hindsight. This can help to correlate images and signs with actual happenings, and decipher between intuition and wishful or fearful thinking. Record these notes into your dream journal, which may be used for all intuition-related reflections. Be patient. Developing intuition is like learning a new language. It takes time, repetition, and practice. Practice humility and trust. Like analytical thinking, intuition isn’t 100 percent accurate 100 percent of the time.
Cynthia Li (Brave New Medicine: A Doctor's Unconventional Path to Healing Her Autoimmune Illness)
The garden’s most recent addition was verbena, which represents healing, feminine power, and hope in darkness, as well as encouraging other plants to grow.
Annabel Chase (Feel the Fern (The Bloomin' Psychic, #5))
Our donation was enough to have two brick pavers added to the museum's garden engraved with Helena Wisniewska on one in her honor and Irene Wisniewska on the other in memory of Miss Wise's sister. Those were tears of healing.
T.I. Lowe (Under the Magnolias)
How much more straightforward it was to bear a physical illness or malady. You need not do anything but rest, and the body simply healed itself. Miseries of the mind, however, were quite another matter; they were a sticky spider's web, and Beatrice had learned that the more you struggled against them, the tighter the strands seemed to bind you.
Alexandra Bell (The Winter Garden)
Stalks of basil to keep the evil eye at bay. A head of broccoli to heal the body. A bunch of cilantro to mend the soul. Three tomatoes for passion in the bedroom. A cucumber to keep that passion from burning a relationship to the ground. The finishing touch--- one piece of fruit from the shadow garden to amplify it all.
Liz Parker (In the Shadow Garden)
The study, which was published in the British Journal of Psychiatry in 2018, was the first horticultural therapy trial to be included in the journal, and its inclusion is an indication that gardening is gaining credibility
Sue Stuart-Smith (The Well-Gardened Mind: The Healing Power of Plants, Earth, and the Outdoors)
Child, the healing of wounds takes time, and there is no better salve than gardening
Kristen Britain (The Dream Gatherer (Green Rider, #6.5))
Healing should never be separated between the flesh and the sense of the flesh. It’s hard to explain. The Denul Warrens involve every aspect of healing, since damage, when it occurs, does so on all levels. Shock is the scar that bridges the gap between the body and the mind.
Steven Erikson (Gardens of the Moon (Malazan Book of the Fallen, #1))
I’ve learned to see more of the beauty in the natural world as well and to pay more attention to the wonder all around. Each spring I spend hours planting hundreds of flowers. I’m a novice for sure, but something about the planting, pruning, and watering of a garden brings life, and each year I learn new methods for cultivating the beauty in nature. Gardening has taught me lessons about growing in the midst of pain. Healing isn’t as easy as replacing old ground with new territory. We have to work with what we have, and some roots and structures are not going anywhere, so we learn to grow beauty around them. Recovery is like that. It’s not a strict replacement of parts—a new piece in place of the broken piece. It’s more like taking a feature that by itself is ugly and unwanted but is repurposed when placed within a larger context of beauty.
Wade Mullen (Something's Not Right: Decoding the Hidden Tactics of Abuse--and Freeing Yourself from Its Power)
October (section I) Is it winter again, is it cold again, didn't Frank just slip on the ice, didn't he heal, weren't the spring seeds planted didn't the night end, didn't the melting ice flood the narrow gutters wasn't my body rescued, wasn't it safe didn't the scar form, invisible above the injury terror and cold, didn't they just end, wasn't the back garden harrowed and planted— I remember how the earth felt, red and dense, in stiff rows, weren't the seeds planted, didn't vines climb the south wall I can't hear your voice for the wind's cries, whistling over the bare ground I no longer care what sound it makes when was I silenced, when did it first seem pointless to describe that sound what it sounds like can't change what it is— didn't the night end, wasn't the earth safe when it was planted didn't we plant the seeds, weren't we necessary to the earth, the vines, were they harvested?
Louise Glück
Every plant, every crop that a person tends, bestows its qualities. For example, it’s good to cultivate ficus. True, ficus is a fruitless plant, but it compensates by giving something of itself. Whoever wants to get rich, let them cultivate ficus. It brings peace and well-being. Ficus is for the learned. If you want to become active and energetic, cultivate cherries, mainly red ones; if you want to strengthen your faith, cultivate prunes; if you want to be really spiritual, you should be cultivating flowers, fruits and vegetables. In the program of all spiritual systems, plant cultivation is advised as a method of work. Through the plants the person is healed. By cultivating them, you become familiar with their magical power. Nowadays garlic is especially heralded as healing medicine. Everyone should have a few beds of garlic, onion and parsley in their garden to cultivate carefully and with love.
Beinsa Douno
In your moments of solitude, when self-doubt, worry, anxiety and fear creep in, dive deep into what you love doing. This could be music, painting, gardening, reading, cooking…whatever…do whatever that makes you forget this world, that makes you forget your pain…surely, there is something that makes you forget who you are. Simply, go do it. When you do this, you will realize how you magically heal, how all your stresses and insecurities vanish. This is why Bliss is so powerful. This is why following your Bliss is so profitable. It helps you live in this world, inevitably trapped in the pulls and pressures of everyday existence, and yet be above all of it, thriving, living happily despite the circumstances.
AVIS Viswanathan
You can begin doing simple and small things that are what you want to do and what excites you, rather than doing what you feel you must do in order to please others. You can begin writing that book you've always wanted to write. You can take up playing an instrument you always wish to play. You can start drawing and painting. You can start a garden; you can study a subject you always wanted to study.
Julia Lang (Codependency Recovery Plan: How to Stop Being Controlled and Controlling Others, Start Healing From Emotional Abuse as You Learn to Cure Codependent Behavior and Build Happy, Healthy Relationships)
Because of the power that Satan obtained through the Fall over the will of the flesh, man's agency could be redeemed only if all the powers of captivity that had been hardwired into the flesh by every sin of mankind could be overcome by an opposing power-by someone who could take our captivity upon him and yet escape from it, thereby providing a way of escape for us...With all of this sinfulness heaped upon him, he then had to withstand the unimaginable onslaught of the entire power and fury of the forces of hell, and do so, as Paul described further, 'yet [remaining] without sin,' For Satan knew that if he could wield the power of his captivity-the chains of our sinfulness that lay ready to bind the Savior-and entice the Savior to sin, he would bring the Savior into his captivity as well.
James L. Ferrell (The Peacegiver: How Christ Offers to Heal Our Hearts and Homes)
Praise be to God! The Savior has withstood in the aggregate what no man has been able to withstand individually: He refused to submit to Satan's will even though he was fully subject to it. Even with all of the mortal effects of our sins heaped upon and pulling at Him, and with Satan and his hosts attempting to drag Him down by that power to sin, the Savior was able to withstand and resist.
James L. Ferrell (The Peacegiver: How Christ Offers to Heal Our Hearts and Homes)
Even now," he whispered, a tear trickling down his cheek, "the powers of darkness are upon him in full force and fury. The term Luke used to describe this assault-the Greek word agon, translated as 'an agony'-means, literally, 'a contest, struggle, or fight, facing an opponent.'..It is what latter-day prophets have referred to as 'indescribable anguish' and 'overpowering torture,' a 'supreme contest with the powers of evil,' an 'hour of anguish when Christ had to meet and overcome all the horrors that Satan could inflict.' And he suffers all this, Ricky-and never forget this-for us.
James L. Ferrell (The Peacegiver: How Christ Offers to Heal Our Hearts and Homes)
...Then the destruction of agency would be complete, and mankind would be left without a way for their hearts to be purified and cleansed. There would therefore be no way for any of us to return to the Father, where only the clean and pure can dwell. 'Is it any wonder, Ricky, that Satan looked up and laughed when he held the entire earth in his chains? On this night in Gethsemane, Satan is only one sin away from holding all creation in his hand.
James L. Ferrell (The Peacegiver: How Christ Offers to Heal Our Hearts and Homes)
The Personal Touch Thou great I AM, I acknowledge and confess that all things come of Thee life, breath, happiness, advancement, sight, touch, hearing, goodness, truth, beauty – all that makes existence amiable. In the spiritual world also I am dependent entirely upon Thee. Give me grace to know more of my need of grace; Show me my sinfulness that I may willingly confess it; Reveal to me my weakness that I may know my strength in Thee. I thank Thee for any sign of penitence; give me more of it; My sins are black and deep, and rise from a stony, proud, self-righteous heart; Help me to confess them with mourning, regret, self-loathing with no pretence to merit or excuse; I need healing, Good Physician, here is the scope for Thee; come and manifest They power; I need faith; Thou who hast given it me, maintain, strengthen, increase it, Centre it upon the Savior's work, upon the majesty of the Father, upon the operations of the Spirit; Work it in me now that I may never doubt Thee as the truthful, mighty, faithful God. Then I can bring my heart to Thee full of love, gratitude, hope, joy. May I lay at Thy feet these fruits grown in Thy garden, love Thee with a passion that can never cool, believe in Thee with a confidence that never staggers, hope in Thee with an expectation that can never be dim, delight in Thee with a rejoicing that cannot be stifled, glorify Thee with the highest of my powers, burning, blazing, glowing, radiating, as from Thy own glory.
Various Puritans (Puritan Prayers & Devotions)
Just as it takes years to create the habits of self-doubt and blame, it also takes time to clear the weeds and cultivate the gifts of joy. Begin planting seeds now and you’ll soon find yourself enjoying a beautiful garden filled with every sense of joy and fulfilment you could ever want.
Mirtha Contreras (The Sacral Chakra: Healing the Sex, Creativity, Pleasure and Joy Center. Learn to Heal Yourself with Meditations, Yoga, Affirmations, Energy Healing and More. (The Healing Energy Series Book 2))
A long time ago, southwest of where we stand, Romans ruled what they knew to be the world at that time. Then God came to earth as a Man, pure and perfect. His name was Jesus. As a Man Himself, He became an example for mankind, but He was also fully God, called the Son. He taught in many towns and performed miracles that healed the blind and lame. But the religious leaders hated the things He taught and did because it took the peoples' attention and money off their traditional ways. "So, the religious leaders plotted to kill Jesus. They found a man to betray Him, a close friend of Jesus, and they found Him in a garden with a few of His followers. They bound Him, beat Him, and spat on Him.
D.I. Telbat (Called to Gobi)
While time may not heal, it does give you perspective.
Heather Lende (Take Good Care of the Garden and the Dogs: Family, Friendships, and Faith in Small-Town Alaska)
Healing should never be separated between the flesh and the sense of the flesh. It's hard to explain. The Denul Warrens involve every aspect of healing, since damage, when it occurs, does so on all levels. Shock is the scar that bridges the gap between the body and the mind. (...) All such things are intertwined. Whatever interceded severed those connections. How many shocks, traumatic events, has Paran received in his lifetime? Which scar am I to trace? I may well do more damage in my ignorance.
Steven Erikson (Gardens of the Moon (Malazan Book of the Fallen, #1))
At first glance the Bible appeared to be a collection of unrelated books of history, poetry, rituals, philosophy, biography, and prophecy held together only by a binder’s stitch and glue. But I only had to read Genesis 11 and 12 to realize that seemingly unrelated and different books of the Bible had a clear plot, a thread that tied together all the books, as well as the Old and the New Testaments. Sin had brought a curse upon all the nations of the earth. God called Abraham to follow him because he wanted to bless all the nations of the earth through Abraham’s descendants.6 It didn’t take long to realize that God’s desire to bless human beings begins in the very first chapter of Genesis and culminates in the last chapter of the last book with a grand vision of healing for all nations.7 The implication was obvious: The Bible was claiming that I should read it because it was written to bless my nation and me. The revelation that God wanted to bless my nation of India amazed me. I realized it was a prediction I could test. It would confirm or deny the Bible’s reliability. If the Bible is God’s word, then had he kept this word? Had he blessed “all the nations of the earth”? Had my country been blessed by the children of Abraham? If so, that would be a good reason for me, an Indian, to check out this book. My investigation of whether God had truly blessed India through the Bible yielded incredible discoveries: the university where I was studying, the municipality and democracy I lived in, the High Court behind my house and the legal system it represented, the modern Hindi that I spoke as my mother tongue, the secular newspaper for which I had begun to write, the army cantonment west of the road I lived on, the botanical garden to the east, the public library near our garden, the railway lines that intersected in my city, the medical system I depended on, the Agricultural Institute across town—all of these came to my city because some people took the Bible seriously.
Vishal Mangalwadi (The Book that Made Your World: How the Bible Created the Soul of Western Civilization)
Along with the planting of native and rare species, these smaller, precise efforts also meshed together to serve a larger goal, that of extending a welcoming hand to life in all its forms. My gardens would never be a place of sterile beauty, with the intricately beautiful faces of flowers gathered from around the globe looking out at the rest of the world from behind a fence of privilege. Whether it was with me at birth or cultivated in Lisheens, my love was for an active and open beauty, the wonder that exists in the intricate relationships between all living things.
Diana Beresford-Kroeger (To Speak for the Trees: My Life's Journey from Ancient Celtic Wisdom to a Healing Vision of the Forest)
Emotional healing is not delivered through Amazon Prime.* In fact, the best things in life grow slowly: relationships, children, careers, the oak tree in your backyard, and your writing practice. Think of it like a garden. Get started now, so that in a few months, you will have something to eat. The reason I bring this up is so that when the feeling inevitably comes up that this is taking too long, you’ll remember these words and you won’t give up. You are about to get to the good stuff. The worst mistake you could make is to get days or weeks into this, worry you aren’t making any progress, and decide to move onto something more efficient and productive.
Allison Fallon (The Power of Writing It Down: A Simple Habit to Unlock Your Brain and Reimagine Your Life)
Permaculture attempts to find solutions in cultural and ecological systems rather than technology. The environmentalist adage that technological solutions breed new technological problems has proven true. The converse can be true of ecological solutions. Thoughtful application of ecological design for problem solving can set in motion regeneration of soil, watersheds and local ecosystems that in turn help heal regional and global environments. It is easy to forget that everything is connected.
Darrell Frey (Bioshelter Market Garden: A Permaculture Farm)
We can let old wounds heal or we can let them fester. That’s a choice we make. Life will go on either way. I’d rather live my days with a scar than a gaping wound.
J.T. Quarks (Paradise Awakens: A New Garden of Eden Blooms)
Eden by Maisie Aletha Smikle In the garden Eden Streams of tranquility glide Flowers magnificently bloom Adam, Eve and animals freely roam Springs sprout Waterfalls emerge Angels smile Earth and Heaven were once in sync Absent was the sting of sin There were no frost To bite the grass Causing trees to freeze There were no fierce heat To kindle a blaze There were no winds That were unkind There were no raindrops That weren't welcome All were in perfect peace All were in harmony so sweet The garden Eden Was the home of the people Handmade by the Father Precious were they Adam and Eve God's first human masterpieces They were loved God gave them a home And grew for them a lovely garden God gave them pets of all species He gave them glorious healing spas and herbs God gave them fruits and food of every kind Everything Adam and Eve had to their hearts desire An envious snake Probably a BOA Saw joy peace love and happiness And hated joy peace love and happiness BOA vowed to destroy love peace joy and happiness BOA wanted to create distrust and enmity instead BOA conspired against love peace joy and happiness And conspired to have Adam and Eve thrown out of their home BOA snatched love joy peace and happiness BOA caused the first family Adam and Eve To be thrown out of their home naked A home that was God's unencumbered gift BOA was happy when happiness left When joy love and peace took flight and went And distrust and enmity remain Where BOA can hiss and strike it's venom of loathe Until people are down Naked and have no home BOA is truly a disgrace Indeed BOA is a scrooge
Maisie Aletha Smikle
I am not here to rebrand the mess he made on campus. It is not my responsibility to alchemize what he did into healing words society can digest. I do not exist to be the eternal flame, the beacon, the flowers that bloom in your garden.
Chanel Miller (Know My Name)
Abstractionism exacerbated the problem but sustainability, if intelligently conceived, could heal the rift between garden, landscape and urban design. Absolute sustainability is not possible. But relative sustainability is a practical and desirable proposition.
Tom Turner (British Gardens: History, Philosophy and Design)
Christian psychologist is called in; if it’s a spiritual problem, the pastor gets the call. We assume that our depression, panic, guilt, or addictions have little or nothing to do with our spirituality; they are two separate issues. But separating our problems into “emotional” problems and “spiritual” problems is part of the problem. All of our problems stem from our failure to reflect the image of God. Because of Adam and Eve’s fall into sin in the Garden of Eden, we have not developed the “likeness” of God in the vital areas of our person, and we are not functioning as we were created to function. Thus, we are in pain. In the course of my own spiritual and professional journey, I have identified four aspects of the personality of God that, if we would cultivate them, would greatly improve our day-to-day functioning. God is able to do four things that we, his children, have difficulty doing: 1. Bond with others. 2. Separate from others. 3. Sort out issues of good and bad 4. Take charge as an adult Without the ability to perform these basic God-like functions, we can literally remain stuck for years, and growth and change can elude our grasp. In this book I will explain these four developmental tasks, the barriers that get in the way of our achieving them, and the skills we need for completing them. Because we live in a fallen world, we all have deficits in all four areas. Transforming the effects of the fall and growing in the image of God is not an easy task. But God has promised that the “good work”he began in us, he will carry “on to completion until the day of
Henry Cloud (Changes That Heal: The Four Shifts That Make Everything Better…And That Everyone Can Do)
Do you dream of change in your life? Do you want to live a happier, healthier life? If so then look into the garden of your heart. See what weeds are growing thickly and where and boldly pull them out....Those weeds are the emotions or attachments to which to which you cling. They are the feelings of inferiority or inadequacy that have made you feel small and insignificant, or the walls of preconception that have separated you from others.....Your mind creates everything...your mind can create blessings or disasters, can heal or harm, can bring abundance or absence. It is up to your mind whether the world looks hopeful or hopeless.
Ilchi Lee (LifeParticle Meditation: A Practical Guide to Healing and Transformation)
Cultivate a deep love and respect for yourself, for you are not here to “fix” the world. You are not here to “fix” your brother or sister. It is only love that heals. And until you have loved yourself wholly by having purified the mind of every erroneous thought you have ever held—until you have loved yourself—you do not, in truth, love anyone or anything. Save in those brief moments when you let your guard down and the Love of God shines forth through you so quickly you do not even know what happened! The wise gardener cultivates a state of consciousness in which the Love of God is unimpeded.
Shanti Christo Foundation (The Way of Mastery ~ Part One: The Way of the Heart (The Way of Mastery))
Pride, anger and hatred are fruits from the same garden that poison the world when ripe. A leader cultivates no such fruits.
Israelmore Ayivor (Leaders' Ladder)
Then it came to him. This was not the diversion, the battle of Gibeah was the diversion. The real goal was to capture Mikael himself, the prince of Israel. Well, he thought, they picked the wrong archangel to mess with. I have a chosen nation to protect. He pulled out his horn to call for help, but Ba’alzebul’s mace smashed it out of his hands. Dagon assaulted him with a barrage of sword slashes and strikes. Mikael kept him at bay, but almost got stung by Asherah’s javelin from the other side. He dodged and kept moving. His Karabu training was his only hope. It was the heavenly battle technique of Yahweh’s archangels developed to protect the Garden of Eden in primordial days. They had taught the human giant killers Enoch, Methuselah, Lamech, and Caleb the Way of Karabu, but now he would need to call upon his training to survive this ordeal. He flipped, spun, and danced around the four attacking gods and their weapons. It frustrated the malevolent beings, which was to Mikael’s advantage. But archangels were still created beings. He began to grow tired. They were wearing him down. Dagon’s sword grazed Mikael’s arm, cutting through his tunic. He was not going to be able to keep it up. He would have to do something drastic. Ba’alzebul moved in on Mikael. The biggest, meanest, mightiest of the gods had been waiting for his opportune moment when Mikael was just weary enough, just worn enough, to be incapable of expecting the unexpected. Ba’alzebul took the lead and pounded Mikael’s sword with his mace and backed him up against the ledge. Mikael looked down to the chasm floor. Saul and his forces made their way through the chasm below after slaughtering the priests of Molech. It wasn’t a fair fight. And neither was this fight. But Saul was safe. He had made it through and went north toward Gibeah. But the gods were not here for Saul. They were here for Mikael. Ba’alzebul suddenly threw down his mace and rushed Mikael like a bull goring its prey. Mikael didn’t register why, until Ba’alzebul hit him. The two of them launched off into space, plummeting toward the chasm floor two hundred feet below. Angels and gods could not die. But they were not mere spirits. They were enfleshed spirits. While it was unique flesh that would heal miraculously, it was still flesh that could be hurt — as Ba’alzebul knew all too well from his own painful experience in the molten earth. They hit the ground with a powerful thud and sank several feet into the dirt. Every bone in Mikael’s body was broken in the fall. He was paralyzed in excruciating pain. Ba’alzebul had been on top of Mikael, so while he too would be somewhat incapacitated, it would not be as bad for him, having used Mikael’s body as a cushion in the fall. As Mikael slipped into a state of delirious pain, he knew that their goal had been to capture him this way. To ambush him and therefore make both Saul and David more vulnerable to human attack. But what did they plan for Mikael? He could not begin to imagine.
Brian Godawa (David Ascendant (Chronicles of the Nephilim, #7))
The “name it and claim it”gospel makes God into our servant and denies his boundaries and choices. God often says no for reasons we may not understand; his refusal to grant our wish doesn’t mean that we do not have enough faith. Ask Jesus in the Garden.
Henry Cloud (Changes That Heal: The Four Shifts That Make Everything Better…And That Everyone Can Do)
Whether they are poets, gardeners, fathers, priestesses, bank managers or a whole host of other ways of working in the world; the vision and aims of people in Druidry today are rooted in healing, in the widest sense of the word.
Sophie Cornish (Druids)
Yesterday morning I managed briefly to escape Mamma, & passed a lovely hour in the roof garden. I thought of you, dearest, & how amazed you would be to see that such vegetation could be grown on board a ship. There are tubs at every turn, filled with green trees & the most beautiful flowers. I felt quite joyous sitting among them (no one knows better than I the healing properties of a garden) & gave myself over to all kinds of silly daydreams. (You will be able to imagine well enough the paths down which my fancies rambled...)
Kate Morton (The Forgotten Garden)
A gardener cannot make a seed grow. She can simply create the conditions for growth to occur and then patiently wait. A physician cannot heal the body. She can simply create the conditions for healing to occur and then patiently wait. A spiritual seeker cannot enlighten the mind or fill the heart with compassion. She can simply create the conditions for grace to pour in and then patiently wait.
Darren Main (The River of Wisdom: Reflections on Yoga, Meditation, and Mindful Living)
Ten minutes of deep relaxation five times a day would change anyone's life, whether or not he or she suffered from colitis.
Brian Leaf (Misadventures of a Garden State Yogi: My Humble Quest to Heal My Colitis, Calm My ADD, and Find the Key to Happiness)
Adam and Eve were not in the garden lighting candles, burning incense, studying theology, and developing religious organization charts. They weren’t created for religion. They walked with God together. God walked with them. They were created for fellowship. Jesus walked with us too. Why?  Jesus did not bring us religion. He brought relationship. He loved us. He walked with us.
Andy Hayner (Born to Heal: Unleash the Supernatural Lifestyle that Jesus Lives in You (Full Speed Impact Book 2))
The indwelling of the Holy Spirit in the heart of believers, which was accomplished at Pentecost, turns each believer into a miniature temple. As such, he or she becomes not simply a separated sphere of holiness, a walled garden in the midst of a wasteland. Rather, the believer as a temple is to be a source of blessing to all around him or her, by transmitting to them the life-giving message of the gospel. By its transforming power, the gospel heals the spiritually dead, making them alive in Christ and fruitful in their service for God.
Iain M. Duguid (Ezekiel (The NIV Application Commentary))
income, expenses, and finances: How much debt do I want to carry, and for what purpose? Would I like to pay off one or more of my credit accounts? By when? How much money do I want to make next month? Next year? Five years from now? What expenses do I want to cut down or cut out? — My home and community: What changes do I want to make in my current living environment? Do I want to fix up my home or yard? Do I want to move? What is my ideal home like? Where is it? What is my personal corner or room like? Does it have a garden, pool, or pond? Is it near the ocean, a lake, the desert, or mountains? Is it in the city or the country? What part of the world do I live in? What is my neighborhood like? What community projects am I involved in, if any? — My spiritual life: How much time do I want to devote to spiritual practices, such as meditation, classes, church, volunteer work, and so on? What books do I want to read? What classes do I want to take? What spiritual teachers, authors, or leaders do I want to meet, listen to, and/or work with? What spiritual power places do I want to visit, with whom, and when? What spiritual projects do I want to work on? What spiritual gift do I want to give to others? — My health and fitness: What changes do I want to make in my health and fitness? How much time per day or week do I want to spend exercising? What type of exercise program would I most enjoy and benefit from? Where would I exercise? With whom? What physical healings do I want? If I were to manifest my true natural state of perfect health right now, what would my body be like? About what weight or fat percentage would my body feel comfortable and healthy being? What types of foods would be in my regular diet? What would my ideal sleeping pattern be? How would I deal with stress or tension? What unnecessary stressors do I want to get rid of? What toxins (emotional or physical) can I eliminate from my diet or life? — My family life: What type of family life do I want? What about children? How much time do I want to spend with my kids? What do I want to teach or share with them? How can I be closer to my family and/or spend more quality time with them? What type of
Doreen Virtue ("I'd Change My Life If I Had More Time")
Paulette awoke with an ache in her heart, a grinding in her gut. If there really was a God, why would He have let anyone put a child through that? … She had survived, but at what cost? She was an itinerant professor, living in her head, not her heart. She had broken away, but abandoned her sister; hadn’t contacted her family in years. Paulette wondered what she was looking for in these weekend workshops. Absolution wasn’t on the curriculum. What could she possibly hope to accomplish? To be a healer you need to connect with people. You need to touch, and let yourself be touched. And not just with your hands. Watching these nurses, she envied them their friendships. Here were real buddies truly caring about each other, taking jabs, sharing private jokes and fears. She’d never had that. Even witnessing it from across a room, or a yard, only made her feel that much more lonely. She got along with people well enough. Agreed with whatever they said, watched their pets, helped them move from one apartment to another. But no one really knew her. Paulette had never been flush with self-confidence. People took that as humility, but humility isn’t painful and crippling. She hadn’t yet learned that humble and self-destructive aren’t the same thing at all. They’re not even on the same team. And now here she was at a workshop for healers. Had she come here to heal; or to be healed? It was one of those warm, charming days that write poems about themselves, and then settle these very softly into your mind. Paulette sensed what felt like a rain-laced breeze stirring her soul; sodden, and yet beautiful; laden with both the dismal, and the promising. - From “The Gardens of Ailana”, a fiction largely based around adults still traumatized by having been abused as children, in the name of their parents’ religion.
Edward Fahey (The Gardens of Ailana)
Sickness is a result of the fall, and healing is anticipatory of the new heavens and the new earth; therefore, whether someone works as a nurse, a veterinarian, or a gardener, he or she is not beyond God’s commitment to his creation. The same can be said for many pursuits.
Ian K. Smith (Not Home Yet: How the Renewal of the Earth Fits Into God's Plan for the World)
Daughter, take courage; your faith has made you well.” At once the woman was made well. (Matthew 9:20-22) The woman was healed because Jesus Himself is healing. She had faith in Him. It is Christ who “dwells in our hearts through faith” (see Ephesians 3:17). He provides us with the strength, healing and wisdom that enables us to make ongoing healthy choices. In 2 Corinthians 12:9, God reminds us of His imparted strength: “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” We find it is not our own strength, but His strength that enables and empowers us." Excerpt From: Danielle Freitag. “The Garden Keys: 22 Keys of Restoration, Volume 1 - The Beginning to Israel.” iBooks.
Danielle Freitag
Love dies by steps. The footfalls of fear, resentment, anger, and spite kill love, little by little. It withers. It tarnishes. It passes away, poisoned, ill, and wounded beyond all power to heal.
Mark T. Barnes (The Garden of Stones (Echoes of Empire, #1))
Take a walk through the garden of forgiveness and pick a flower of forgiveness for everything you have ever done.
Stephen Richards (The Pain You Feel Today Is The Strength You Feel Tomorrow)
One day I dared the Universe to send me a sign. I like to tell this story because it helps you understand just how powerful your mind really is. On this particular day, I was feeling a little nervous - which, unfortunately, happens a lot.
Leslie Riopel (The Life-Changing Magic of Healing Thru Immersion - A Multisensory Approach to Healing: Featuring "The Secret Garden Meditation Series" and the HIM - Healing Immersion Method)
Let go of the past. Open to forever. Hearts can heal. Inside them is that which can never be broken.
Edward Fahey (The Gardens of Ailana)
Paulette had never been flush with self-confidence. People took that as humility, but humility isn’t painful and crippling. She hadn’t yet learned that humble and self-destructive aren’t the same thing at all. They’re not even on the same team. - From "The Gardens of Ailana" handbook for healers & mystics
Edward Fahey (The Gardens of Ailana)
Children Are a Gift Behold, children are a gift of the LORD; the fruit of the womb is a reward. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior, so are the children of one’s youth. —PSALM 127:3 NASB     In a recent women’s Bible study, the teacher asked the group, “Did you feel loved by your parents when you were a child?” Here are some of the responses. • “A lot of pizza came to the house on Friday nights when my parents went out for the evening.” • “I got in their way. I wasn’t important to them.” • “They were too busy for me.” • “Mom didn’t have to work, but she did just so she wouldn’t have to be home with us kids.” • “I spent too much time with a babysitter.” • “Mom was too involved at the country club to spend time with me.” • “Dad took us on trips, but he played golf all the time we were away.” So many of the ladies felt they were rejected by their parents in their childhoods. There was very little love in their homes. What would your children say in response to the same question? I’m sure we all would gain insight from our children’s answers. In today’s verse we see that children are a reward (gift) from the Lord. In Hebrew, “gift” means “property—a possession.” Truly, God has loaned us His property or possessions to care for and to enjoy for a certain period of time. My Bob loves to grow vegetables in his raised-bed garden each summer. I am amazed at what it takes to get a good crop. He cultivates the soil, sows seeds, waters, fertilizes, weeds, and prunes. Raising children takes a lot of time, care, nurturing, and cultivating as well. We can’t neglect these responsibilities if we are going to produce good fruit. Left to itself, the garden—and our children—will end up weeds. Bob always has a smile on his face when he brings a big basket full of corn, tomatoes, cucumbers, and beans into the kitchen. As the harvest is Bob’s reward, so children are parents’ rewards. Let your home be a place where its members come to be rejuvenated after a very busy time away from it. We liked to call our home the “trauma center”—a place where we could make mistakes, but also where there was healing. Perfect people didn’t reside at our address. We tried to teach that we all make mistakes and certainly aren’t always right. Quite often in our home we could hear the two
Emilie Barnes (Walk with Me Today, Lord: Inspiring Devotions for Women)
April 14 MORNING “All they that see me laugh me to scorn: they shoot out the lip, they shake the head.” — Psalm 22:7 MOCKERY was a great ingredient in our Lord’s woe. Judas mocked Him in the garden; the chief priests and scribes laughed Him to scorn; Herod set Him at nought; the servants and the soldiers jeered at Him, and brutally insulted Him; Pilate and his guards ridiculed His royalty; and on the tree all sorts of horrid jests and hideous taunts were hurled at Him. Ridicule is always hard to bear, but when we are in intense pain it is so heartless, so cruel, that it cuts us to the quick. Imagine the Saviour crucified, racked with anguish far beyond all mortal guess, and then picture that motley multitude, all wagging their heads or thrusting out the lip in bitterest contempt of one poor suffering victim! Surely there must have been something more in the crucified One than they could see, or else such a great and mingled crowd would not unanimously have honoured Him with such contempt. Was it not evil confessing, in the very moment of its greatest apparent triumph, that after all it could do no more than mock at that victorious goodness which was then reigning on the cross? O Jesus, “despised and rejected of men,” how couldst Thou die for men who treated Thee so ill? Herein is love amazing, love divine, yea, love beyond degree. We, too, have despised Thee in the days of our unregeneracy, and even since our new birth we have set the world on high in our hearts, and yet Thou bleedest to heal our wounds, and diest to give us life. O that we could set Thee on a glorious high throne in all men’s hearts! We would ring out Thy praises over land and sea till men should as universally adore as once they did unanimously reject. “Thy creatures wrong Thee, O Thou sovereign Good! Thou art not loved, because not understood: This grieves me most, that vain pursuits beguile Ungrateful men, regardless of Thy smile.
Charles Haddon Spurgeon (Morning and Evening-Classic KJV Edition)
happened - but I am pretty sure my unconscious mind played a role in it all. Well, to make a long story short, the cat
Leslie Riopel (The Life-Changing Magic of Healing Thru Immersion - A Multisensory Approach to Healing: Featuring "The Secret Garden Meditation Series" and the HIM - Healing Immersion Method)
More than twenty-years-ago I had a dream that opened my eyes to a new reality. I was recovering from surgery which removed five uterine fibroid tumors. Excruciating pain and limited mobility kept me in bed with recurring thoughts about how I had lived my life up to this point. I dosed off to sleep, and found myself in a beautiful garden, having a conversation with an invisible caretaker. It became clear to me that the voice which spoke poetically but emphatically about the healing plants, herbs and trees in the garden was the voice of The Creator.
Akhenaten S'L'M-Bey (I Love Me: The Ultimate Self-Care Guide for Healing Artists)
A secret garden,’ she spoke softly, almost to herself in English. ‘A secret garden,’ he nodded. ‘That’s a good description.’ ‘It is not mine,’ she confessed, ‘it’s a children’s book.’ He looked at her as if he wanted to hear more. She wasn’t used to explaining her mind wanderings. ‘It’s the story of a little girl who finds a hidden garden and restores it, but really it is about the healing of damaged hearts. Extrait de: Kathryn Adams. « Death in Grondère. » iBooks.
Kathryn Adams Death in Grondère
Later that evening, as we sat in the garden having drinks, I caught Harry looking at me with a kind of doggy devotion in his eyes. I leaned back in my chair, well satisfied, both with my drink in such pleasant surroundings and with his devotion. It seemed like a balm to heal the little wound inflicted by Piers’s unkindness.
Barbara Pym (The Barbara Pym Collection Volume One: A Glass of Blessings / Some Tame Gazelle / and Jane and Prudence)
The scent of the stuff was familiar, evocative. Yet how? And when? It smelled of a damp meadow, the edge of a pool, a stream lapsing through green weeds. I could almost hear the rustle of Cousin Geillis’s dress, feel her peering over my shoulder as I started to replace the poultice. Comfrey, that was it; called knitbone, bruisewort, consound. The roots boiled in water or wine and the decoction drunk heals inward hurts, bruises, wounds and ulcers of the lung. The roots being outwardly applied cure fresh wounds or cuts immediately. (‘In or out, that’s sovereign.’) The recipe – Home Remedy or Receipt? – unreeled in my mind as if I had made it a hundred times. For the ointment, digest the root or leaves in hot paraffin wax, strain and allow to cool … And from somewhere faint and far back, a sentence that ran like a tranquil psalm: Comfrey joyeth in watery ditches, in fat and fruitfull meadowes; they grow all in my garden.
Mary Stewart (Thornyhold)
This idea that Jesus is meek, mild, indifferent, and non-judgmental is the stuff of pure myth. Pastor Mark Driscoll says he used to believe Jesus was dull, boring, passionless—in short, unappealing—until he read the Bible. He didn’t recognize in its pages the Jesus about Whom he’d always been told. Driscoll challenges us to read the Gospel of Mark, which will “spin your head around.” Jesus, says Driscoll, tells people to “repent.” He tells people to quit their jobs and follow him. He tells a demon to shut up. After He heals a leper He swears him to silence, too. Then He picks a fight with Sunday school teachers, He tells His mom He’s busy, He rebukes the wind, He kills two thousand pigs, and “he offends people, but doesn’t go to sensitivity training.” He calls people hypocrites and calls Peter “Satan,” He curses and kills a tree, He tells people they’re going to hell, and He rebukes the disciples for falling asleep on Him in the garden.21 Driscoll’s point is not that Jesus was mean or bad in any way; merely that the lukewarm, pacifist image this culture has created of Him is as ridiculous as it is inaccurate.
David Limbaugh (Jesus on Trial: A Lawyer Affirms the Truth of the Gospel)
The fire is out. Brian isn't going to press charges. Hal has a broken nose, a dislocated left hip, probably a mild concussion – once again that damn pith helmet saved him from anything serious -- and third degrees burns on his foot after his boot caught on fire. Nothing major but we're still out of production until his face heals." Dmitri picked up the insulated pitcher full of coffee and tilted his head in a "follow me" signal. "Oh, didn't know you could dislocate a hip." "It takes talent." Jane growled as she followed him through the studio.
Wen Spencer (Pittsburgh Backyard and Garden (Elfhome, #1.5))
Don’t be afraid to cut ties or severely limit contact with people who gossip, complain, catastrophize, downplay your dreams, or only choose to see themselves as victims. Wherever you expend a lot of your energy, you also plant seeds. Love yourself enough to plant and protect the garden that you wish to grow.
Dominique D. Wilson (Create Your Vision Workbook: 4 Steps to Create a Powerful Vision for The Life You Want)
it’s OK. Everything’s just different. David has no question that Transcendental Meditation has transformed his life from one of suffering to one of happiness, a transformation he compares to the healing of a sick tree. I like the analogy of the tree. You want to turn all the little sick leaves green. But when you work on the surface, leaf by leaf by leaf, it’s so difficult. By the time you get one leaf green, a bunch of others have gone yellow or brown. The secret is, the experienced gardener doesn’t worry about the leaves. He knows the tree is sick, so he gets nourishment to the roots, the deepest level. And that way you transform that whole sick tree to a state of perfection. All the leaves turn green. All the branches get strong. “Water the root and enjoy the fruit” is something Maharishi said for over 50 years. This image of the tree brings to mind work I have done over the years with patients who have a hard time managing their anger.
Norman E. Rosenthal (Transcendence: Healing and Transformation Through Transcendental Meditation)
After so long worrying and being fearful, living by the sea and running is giving me the mental space to think creatively again for the first time in years. With the salty wind on my face, feet pounding on the shingle, Kate Bush, The Hounds of Love , on my iPod, new thoughts enter my head. What do I think about that architecture? as I run past a white modernist house: ‘I like the shape of the house but the windows are too small.’ What do I think of the asymmetrical stairs, the sculptures in the garden?
Viv Albertine (Clothes, Clothes, Clothes. Music, Music, Music. Boys, Boys, Boys)
VENERABLE EUPHROSYNOS THE COOK OF ALEXANDRIA. Euphrosynos the monk labored in the monastery kitchen, serving the brethren with humility and patience. He never neglected his prayers or fasting. He suffered much abuse from the brothers, but his patience was inexpressible. One night a certain priest who lived at the monastery prayed to the Lord to show him the things which are prepared for those that love the Lord. He had a vision that he was standing in a garden of unimaginable beauty, and he saw Euphrosynos walking by. The priest asked, “Brother Euphrosynos, what is this place? Can this be paradise?” Euphrosynos answered, “It is paradise, Father.” When the priest asked what he was doing there, Euphrosynos said that he had made his abode there and distributes to others the gifts of the garden. He then placed three apples in a kerchief and gave them to the priest. At that moment, the semantron was struck for Matins, and the priest awoke and found the three fragrant apples that Euphrosynos had given him in paradise. When he arrived in church, he asked Euphrosynos where he had been that night, and the monk replied, “Forgive me, Father, I have been in that place where we saw one another.” The priest asked, “What did you give me, Father, in paradise when I spoke with you?” “The three fragrant apples which you have placed on your bed in your cell; but forgive me, Father, for I am a worm and not a man,” answered Euphrosynos. Following the church service, the humble Euphrosynos was nowhere to be found. The apples were divided among the brethren, and whoever ate of them, was healed of their infirmities.
Orthodox Calendar Company (2020 Daily Lives, Miracles, and Wisdom of the Saints & Fasting Calendar)
[Samuel L. Lewis] ... [I]n a world claiming to be Christian to some degree, no teachings have been more ignored than the social proclamations of Jesus. This can no longer be. The dualism between theory and practice has created a chasm in the body politic, the wound of which can no longer be healed.
Neil Douglas-Klotz (Gardens of Vision and Initiation: The Life Journey of Samuel L. Lewis)
When we use the toil of our hands and not only our minds to bring newness and restoration to the world, we become part of God's healing process in creation.
Jerusalem Jackson Greer (At Home in this Life: Finding Peace at the Crossroads of Unraveled Dreams and Beautiful Surprises)
From under the portal of the Holy of Holies in the Third Temple, a trickle of sweet water will flow through the Temple Courtyard and out to the countryside. The trickle will become a stream, and the stream will become a great river on whose banks trees will grow that produce new fruit every month. The leaves of these trees will heal every wound and sickness.17 The river will transform the Land of Israel into the Garden of Eden.
Chaim Clorfene (The Messianic Temple)
cigarette. They floated in the middle of the tropical green ocean with the islands in view. The water was doing something to Tatiana. It was dismantling her. With every flutter of the water she saw the Neva, the River Neva under the northern sun on the sub-Arctic white night city they once called home, the water rippled and in it was Leningrad, and in Leningrad was everything she wanted to remember and everything she wanted to forget. He was gazing at her. His eyes occasionally softened under the sticky Coconut Grove sun. “You’ve got new freckles, above your eyebrows.” He kissed her eyelids. “Golden, soft hair, ocean eyes.” He stroked her face, her cheeks. “Your scar is almost gone. Just a thin white line now. Can barely see it.” The scar she got escaping from the Soviet Union. “Hmm.” “Unlike mine?” “You have more to heal, husband.” Reaching out, she placed her hand on Alexander’s face and then closed her eyes quickly so he couldn’t pry inside her. “Tatiasha,” he called in a whisper, and then bent to her and kissed her long and true. It had been a year since she had found him shackled in Sachsenhausen’s isolation chamber. A year since she dredged him up from the bottomdwellers of Soviet-occupied Germany, from the grasping hands of Stalin’s henchmen. How could it have been a year? How long did it seem? An eternity in purgatory, a hemidemisemiquaver in heaven.
Paullina Simons (The Summer Garden (The Bronze Horseman, #3))
our land: The Encyclopedia of Organic Gardening and Double Yoga. Northland Wildflowers and Quilts to Wear. Songs for the Dulcimer and Bread Baking Basics. Using Plants for Healing and I Always Look Up the Word Egregious. I took the books she’d read to me, chapter by chapter, before I could read to myself: the unabridged Bambi and Black Beauty and Little House in the Big Woods. I took the books that she’d acquired as a college student in the years right before she died: Paula Gunn Allen’s The Sacred Hoop and Maxine Hong Kingston’s The Woman Warrior and Cherríe Moraga and Gloria Anzaldúa’s This Bridge Called My Back. Herman Melville’s Moby-Dick and Mark Twain’s Huckleberry Finn and Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass. But I did not take the books by James Michener, the ones my mother loved the most. “Thank you,” I said now to Jeff, holding The Novel. “I’ll trade this for
Cheryl Strayed (Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail)
I wondered why so many gardens around the world focused on the healing power of plants rather than their ability to kill… I felt that most children I knew would be more interested in hearing how a plant killed, how long it would take you to die if you ate it and how gruesome and painful the death might be.
Jane Percy, Duchess of Northumberland
Think for a moment of a tomato plant. A healthy plant can have over a hundred tomatoes on it. In order to get this tomato plant with all these tomatoes on it, we need to start with a small dried seed. That seed doesn’t look like a tomato plant. It sure doesn’t taste like a tomato plant. If you didn’t know for sure, you would not even believe it could be a tomato plant. However, let’s say you plant this seed in fertile soil, and you water it and let the sun shine on it. When the first little tiny shoot comes up, you don’t stomp on it and say, “That’s not a tomato plant.” Rather, you look at it and say, “Oh boy! Here it comes,” and you watch it grow with delight. In time, if you continue to water it and give it lots of sunshine and pull away any weeds, you might have a tomato plant with more than a hundred luscious tomatoes. It all began with that one tiny seed. It is the same with creating a new experience for yourself. The soil you plant in is your subconscious mind. The seed is the new affirmation. The whole new experience is in this tiny seed. You water it with affirmations. You let the sunshine of positive thoughts beam on it. You weed the garden by pulling out the negative thoughts that come up. And when you first see the tiniest little evidence, you don’t stomp on it and say, “That’s not enough!” Instead, you look at this first breakthrough and exclaim with glee, “Oh boy! Here it comes! It’s working!” Then you watch it grow and become your desire in manifestation.
Louise L. Hay (You Can Heal Your Life)
Sophie was smiling at the baby, who was making a determined play for the cat’s nose. Vim expected the beast to issue the kind of reprimand children remembered long after the scratches had healed, but the cat instead walked away, all the more dignified for its missing parts. “He must go terrorize mice,” Sophie said, rising with the child in her arms. “You’re telling me that cat still mouses?” Vim asked, taking the baby from her in a maneuver that was beginning to feel automatic. “Of course Pee Wee mouses.” Sophie turned a smile on him. “A few battle scars won’t slow a warrior like him down.” “A name like Pee Wee might.” She wrapped her hand into the crook of his elbow as they started across the alley. “Elizabeth gets more grief over his name than Pee Wee does.” “And rightly so. Why on earth would you inflict a feminine name on a big, black tom cat?” “I didn’t name him Elizabeth. I named him Bête Noir, after the French for black beast. Merriweather started calling him Betty Knorr after some actress, which was a tad too informal for such an animal, and hence he became Elizabeth. He answers to it now.” Vim suppressed the twitching of his lips, because this explanation was delivered with a perfectly straight face. “I suppose all that counts is that the cat recognizes it. It isn’t as if the cats were going to comprehend the French.” “It’s silly.” She paused inside the garden gate, her expression self-conscious. He stopped with her on the path, cradling the baby against his chest and trying to fathom what she needed to hear at the moment. “To the cat it isn’t silly, Sophie. To him, your kindness and care are the difference between life and death.” “He’s just a cat.” But she looked pleased with Vim’s observations. “And this is just a baby. Come.
Grace Burrowes (Lady Sophie's Christmas Wish (The Duke's Daughters, #1; Windham, #4))
No matter how dark life can be, it's how we react to it that matters. Love & forgiveness instead of hate and fear, create in us a garden of healing.
Kathy Goodhew (A Vision Beyond Abuse: Spiritual Healing After Abuse)
The Mosaic legend of the Fall of Man has preserved an ancient picture representing the origin and consequences of this disunion. The incidents of the legend form the basis of an essential article of the creed, the doctrine of original sin in man and his consequent need of succour. It may be well at the commencement of logic to examine the story which treats of the origin and the bearings of the very knowledge which logic has to discuss. For, though philosophy must not allow herself to be overawed by religion, or accept the position of existence on sufferance, she cannot afford to neglect these popular conceptions. The tales and allegories of religion, which have enjoyed for thousands of years the veneration of nations, are not to be set aside as antiquated even now. Upon a closer inspection of the story of the Fall we find, as was already said, that it exemplifies the universal bearings of knowledge upon the spiritual life. In its instinctive and natural stage, spiritual life wears the garb of innocence and confiding simplicity; but the very essence of spirit implies the absorption of this immediate condition in something higher. The spiritual is distinguished from the natural, and more especially from the animal, life, in the circumstance that it does not continue a mere stream of tendency, but sunders itself to self-realisation. But this position of severed life has in its turn to be suppressed, and the spirit has by its own act to win its way to concord again. The final concord then is spiritual; that is, the principle of restoration is found in thought, and thought only. The hand that inflicts the wound is also the hand which heals it. We are told in our story that Adam and Eve, the first human beings, the types of humanity, were placed in a garden, where grew a tree of life and a tree of the knowledge of good and evil. God, it is said, had forbidden them to eat of the fruit of this latter tree: of the tree of life for the present nothing further is said. These words evidently assume that man is not intended to seek knowledge, and ought to remain in the state of innocence. Other meditative races, it may be remarked, have held the same belief that the primitive state of mankind was one of innocence and harmony. Now all this is to a certain extent correct. The disunion that appears throughout humanity is not a condition to rest in. But it is a mistake to regard the natural and immediate harmony as the right state. The mind is not mere instinct: on the contrary, it essentially involves the tendency to reasoning and meditation. Childlike innocence no doubt has in it something fascinating and attractive: but only because it reminds us of what the spirit must win for itself. The harmoniousness of childhood is a gift from the hand of nature: the second harmony must spring from the labour and culture of the spirit. And so the words of Christ, ‘Except ye become as little children’, etc., are very far from telling us that we must always remain children. Again, we find in the narrative of Moses that the occasion which led man to leave his natural unity is attributed to solicitation from without. The serpent was the tempter. But the truth is, that the step into opposition, the awakening of consciousness, follows from the very nature of man; and the same history repeats itself in every son of Adam. The serpent represents likeness to God as consisting in the knowledge of good and evil: and it is just this knowledge in which man participates when he breaks with the unity of his instinctive being and eats of the forbidden fruit. The first reflection of awakened consciousness in men told them that they were naked. This is a naive and profound trait. For the sense of shame bears evidence to the separation of man from his natural and sensuous life. The beasts never get so far as this separation, and they feel no shame. And it is in the human feeling of shame that we are to seek the spiritual and moral origin origin of dress.
Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel
Cancer is the weed of the Garden
Gabriel Brunsdon
Those who are able to watch over and beautifully tend the gardens of their minds, are the creators of life. Don't wait for some other person or thing to make your life beautiful. Become the artist of your own life!
Ilchi Lee (LifeParticle Meditation: A Practical Guide to Healing and Transformation)
And so I must consider their pain? I, with my broken ribs, my broken pride?" "Ribs mend. Pride another subject for another time. But how does one regain their humanity, once lost? How does man heal a darkness in his heart?
Parnaz Foroutan (The Girl from the Garden)
The dark came down on All Hallows’ Eve. We went to sleep to the sound of howling wind and pelting rain, and woke on the Feast of All Saints to whiteness and large soft flakes falling down and down in absolute silence. There is no more perfect stillness than the solitude in the heart of a snowstorm. This is the thin time, when the beloved dead draw near. The world turns inward, and the chilling air grows thick with dreams and mystery. The sky goes from a sharp clear cold where a million stars burn bright and close, to the gray-pink cloud that enfolds the earth with the promise of snow. I took one of Bree’s matches from its box and lit it, thrilling to the tiny leap of instant flame, and bent to put it to the kindling. Snow was falling, and winter had come; the season of fire. Candles and hearth fire, that lovely, leaping paradox, that destruction contained but never tamed, held at a safe distance to warm and enchant, but always, still, with that small sense of danger. The smell of roasting pumpkins was thick and sweet in the air. Having ruled the night with fire, the jack-o’-lanterns went now to a more peaceful fate as pies and compost, to join the gentle rest of the earth before renewal. I had turned the earth in my garden the day before, planting the winter seeds to sleep and swell, to dream their buried birth. Now is the time when we reenter the womb of the world, dreaming the dreams of snow and silence. Waking to the shock of frozen lakes under waning moonlight and the cold sun burning low and blue in the branches of the ice-cased trees, returning from our brief and necessary labors to food and story, to the warmth of firelight in the dark. Around a fire, in the dark, all truths can be told, and heard, in safety. I pulled on my woolen stockings, thick petticoats, my warmest shawl, and went down to poke up the kitchen fire. I stood watching wisps of steam rise from the fragrant cauldron, and felt myself turn inward. The world could go away, and we would heal.
Diana Gabaldon (A Breath of Snow and Ashes (Outlander, #6))
Power of Prayer     “The LORD has heard my cry for mercy; the LORD accepts my prayer” (Psalm 6:9).     I realize the power of prayer and the importance of praying for others. Yet sometimes I have these pesky doubts sprouting up in the garden of my mind, like weeds. Unless I pull out the root of the problem, they will continue to grow and return.   Recently, I prayed for my daughter’s healing. I also used common sense, having her sleep and take it easy all day. But then this morning her cough continued. It got progressively worse on our walk to the bus stop. Later in the day, she even had to break from an aggressive game of hide-n-seek to give her lungs a rest.   I found myself wondering; I know God is a miracle-working God, so why is she not healed? I know that God heals the sick, so why is she still coughing? I know that God says, ask and you shall receive (Luke 11) so why has my prayer not been heard? I want a miracle now. I know it’s within God’s power. Her lungs could become instantly made perfect in a simple command.   So knowing He can do this, why doesn’t He?   I reason that either: a) God didn’t hear my prayer, b) He heard my prayer and ignored it, c) He heard my prayer and answered, Yes later, or d) He heard my prayer and answered, No.   a)   He didn’t hear my prayer   I know God hears my prayers, based on scripture and my own experiences. There are lots of passages in the Bible to back up the fact that God does hear us. “This is the confidence we have in approaching God: that if we ask anything according to his will, he hears us” (1 John 5:14).   My own experiences even include God hearing my inner, unspoken prayers. I have prayed for safety, while driving in dangerous storms, and He answered my prayer. I have prayed for help and He answered immediately. Actually, I could fill this page and the next with prayers answered, both verbally expressed and those silently directed to God, as proof that He does hear my prayers.   b)   He heard my prayer and ignored it   Given that God hears my prayer, He can either respond, Yes or No. Considering that nothing is impossible for God (Luke 18 ) and He is a just and loving God, there is no reason for Him to ignore me. He calls to me everyday. Since He wants to communicate with me, it would be against His very nature to ignore me. He is merciful and kind, forgiving and gentle. If anything, He wants a relationship with me and so He would not ignore me. “For the eyes of the Lord are on the righteous and his ears are attentive to their prayer” (1 Peter 3:12).   c) He heard my prayer and answered, Yes later   I know that God hears my prayers. I know by His very nature He would not ignore my prayers. (2 Chronicles 7 NIV) So He may be saying, Yes later. God knows the past, the present and the future. He lives in eternity. He knows what is best for me and when. His timing is perfect and I must learn to accept this. I must lift my prayer to Him and then settle back knowing that He is in full control.   It’s just a matter of patience. “We do not want you to become lazy, but to imitate those who through faith and patience inherit what has been promised” (Hebrews 6:12). Like the time I had to wait for my house to sell. I
Kimberley Payne (Feed Your Spirit - a collection of devotionals on prayer)
the urgent question: Should I stay in this relationship or leave? She had been living a good life with her husband and two daughters. Located in a quiet neighborhood in the suburbs, her house was immaculate and beautifully decorated, her well-tended gardens extensive. She’d been married for fifteen years, apparently happily. She and her gentle husband, Doug, were devoted to raising their
Miriam Greenspan (Healing through the Dark Emotions: The Wisdom of Grief, Fear, and Despair)
Power of Prayer     “The LORD has heard my cry for mercy; the LORD accepts my prayer” (Psalm 6:9).     I realize the power of prayer and the importance of praying for others. Yet sometimes I have these pesky doubts sprouting up in the garden of my mind, like weeds. Unless I pull out the root of the problem, they will continue to grow and return.   Recently, I prayed for my daughter’s healing. I also used common sense, having her sleep and take it easy all day. But then this morning her cough continued. It got progressively worse on our walk to the bus stop. Later in the day, she even had to break from an aggressive game of hide-n-seek to give her lungs a rest.   I found myself wondering; I know God is a miracle-working God, so why is she not healed? I know that God heals the sick, so why is she still coughing? I know that God says, ask and you shall receive (Luke 11) so why has my prayer not been heard? I want a miracle now. I know it’s within God’s power. Her lungs could become instantly made perfect in a simple command.   So knowing He can do this, why doesn’t He?   I reason that either: a) God didn’t hear my prayer, b) He heard my prayer and ignored it, c) He heard my prayer and answered, Yes later, or d) He heard my prayer and answered, No.   a)   He didn’t hear my prayer   I know God hears my prayers, based on scripture and my own experiences. There are lots of passages in the Bible to back up the fact that God does hear us. “This is the confidence we have in approaching God: that if we ask anything according to his will, he hears us” (1 John 5:14).   My own experiences even include God hearing my inner, unspoken prayers. I have prayed for safety, while driving in dangerous storms, and He answered my prayer. I have prayed for help and He answered immediately. Actually, I could fill this page and the next with prayers answered, both verbally expressed and those silently directed to God, as proof that He does hear my prayers.   b)   He heard my prayer and ignored it   Given that God hears my prayer, He can either respond, Yes or No. Considering that nothing is impossible for God (Luke 18 ) and He is a just and loving God, there is no reason for Him to ignore me. He calls to me everyday. Since He wants to communicate with me, it would be against His very nature to ignore me. He is
Kimberley Payne (Feed Your Spirit - a collection of devotionals on prayer)
An Observation True gardeners cannot bear a glove Between the sure touch and the tender root, Must let their hands grow knotted as they move With a rough sensitivity about Under the earth, between the rock and shoot, Never to bruise or wound the hidden fruit. And so I watched my mother's hands grow scarred, She who could heal the wounded plant or friend With the same vulnerable yet rigorous love; I minded once to see her beauty gnarled, But now her truth is given me to live, As I learn for myself we must be hard To move among the tender with an open hand, And to stay sensitive up to the end Pay with some toughness for a gentle world.
May Sarton (A Private Mythology: Poems)
But spring twilight found her barefoot in the garden, planting beans and helping me fill my pail with earthworms that were severed by her shovel. I thought I could nurse them back to health in the worm hospital I constructed beneath the irises. She encouraged me in this, always saying, “There is no hurt that can’t be healed by love.
Robin Wall Kimmerer
I stopped by the mirror by the window of my room the shadows from within asked ' why did they leave? ' such a lovely sparkling soul, a girl so naive but funny why did they 'have' to leave ? what would have 'made' them leave ?.. I looked deep and deeper through bones and flesh and uncovered one by one the layers of my low self esteem, of no confidence, of pain and hurt unsaid unheard and sighed.. and within that moment of sheer nakedness it dawned upon me how could they ever have stayed?.. for down the porch.. out in the garden.. for times ago.. our souls had never played together as children how could they have stayed I smiled, for I had to find my way to you, I had to come home, to the girl so naive but funny
Himanjali Singh
The day, with all its pain ahead, is yours. The ceaseless creasing of the morning sea, the fluttering gamboge cedar leaves allegro, the rods of the yawning branches trolling the breeze, the rusted meadows, the wind-whitened grass, the coos of the stone-colored ground doves on the road, the echo of benediction on a house – its rooms of pain, its verandah of remorse when joy lanced through its open-hearted doors like a hummingbird out to the garden and the pool in which the sky has fallen. These are all yours, and pain has made them brighter as absence does after a death, as the light heals the grass.
Derek Walcott
He tried again and again to have you killed or to usurp your power. If it was up to me, he would die for his treachery. But the final decision must be yours, my Lady,” he sent through our bond. “I don’t believe the bastard deserves to be healed but I know how compassionate you are.” First do no harm, I told myself. With a sigh, I placed my glowing hands gently on Morbain’s shoulders. He reacted with a gasp and tried to shake off my grip. But he couldn’t—again I felt the Goddess’s energy flow through me and again she spoke, using my mouth as her own. “For the sins you have committed against your own mother, Sundalla the 999th and for the attempts you have made against my new scion, Sundalla the 1000th, I condemn you,” the Goddess boomed. “You shall carry the wounds and pain of your time in the Garden of Death with you for the rest of your immortal life, Morbain. Never healing, never scarring—always fresh and weeping—your wounds will serve as a reminder to those that come after. This is your punishment from which you may not escape, even into death.” Then
Evangeline Anderson (Descended (Alien Mate Index, #3))
He stopped, blinked. ‘It’s fine. All fine. Strong as an ox,’he said, eyes dancing. And he was; it had taken months of healing, but he was almost back to his old self. The gardening helped, according to Dr Harris, who approved thoroughly. Peter had become a great friend. He even had a polytunnel of his own now, to Dr Gia’s despair. Apparently he too shared a fondness for exotic jam.
Lily Graham (A Cornish Christmas)
I look at the one red smile. The red of the smile is the same as the red of the tulips in Serena Joy’s garden, towards the base of the flowers where they are beginning to heal. The red is the same but there is no connection. The tulips are not tulips of blood, the red smiles are not flowers, neither thing makes a comment on the other. The tulip is not a reason for disbelief in the hanged man, or vice versa. Each thing is valid and really there. It is through a field of such valid objects that I must pick my way, every day and in every way. I put a lot of effort into making such distinctions. I need to make them. I need to be very clear, in my own mind. I feel a tremor in the woman beside me. Is she crying? In what way could it make her look good? I can’t afford to know. My own hands are clenched, I note, tight around the handle of my basket. I won’t give anything away. Ordinary, said Aunt Lydia, is what you are used to. This may not seem ordinary to you now, but after a time it will. It will become ordinary.
Margaret Atwood (The Handmaid's Tale (The Handmaid's Tale, #1))
Luca appeared from around the front of the villa. Smiling slightly, he crossed the garden in a few long strides and sat next to her on the bench. He seemed completely healed, both from the wound on his shoulder and th scrapes he’d gotten at Palazzo Dubois. The last remaining evidence of the fight, a bruise on his jawbone, had turned from purple to brownish yellow. Cass reached up to touch it. She still couldn’t believe they’d infiltrated Joseph Dubois’s home, stolen the Book of the Eternal Rose, and escaped with only a few minor injuries to show for it. “I wasn’t sure you’d make it,” she said. A gust of wind sent a bouquet of fallen leaves spinning through the air. Luca wrapped his hand around hers, and their fingers naturally twined together. “I promised I would, Cass.” Her lips curled upward. Luca had only just started calling her Cass, but she liked it. it made her think that he had finally relaxed around her, that the person he was being was his true self.
Fiona Paul (Starling (Secrets of the Eternal Rose, #3))
OM CHANTING Various studies have shown that OM chanting deactivates the limbic part of the brain responsible for our basic emotions (fear, pleasure, anger) and our impulses (hunger, sex, dominance and care of offspring). Since the effectiveness of OM chanting is associated with the experience of vibrations around the ears, scientists have suggested that these sensations are transmitted through the auricular branch of the vagus nerve. As the vagus nerve branches off into the inner ear and larynx, controlling the opening and closing of the vocal cords and tone of the sound, it appears that this is stimulated during the vocalization of the O and M sounds. In addition, by performing chanting in exhalation, the vagus nerve is activated in its role as manager of the parasympathetic system. In addition, chanting, by facilitating the lengthening of the exhalation, further amplifies the effect on the parasympathetic system. This is why this practice helps to calm and relax the body and mind. -Find a quiet place to sit comfortably. -A good position is to sit with your legs crossed and your back straight. -Wear comfortable cotton clothes that do not tighten any part of your body. All body channels should be free and comfortable. Place the palm of your right hand (facing upwards) on the palm of your left hand at navel level. Close your eyes for a few minutes and relax your mind and body. Slowly feel the vibrations that occur in every part of your body. When the vibrations become more intense, start breathing deeply. Hold your breath for a second and then slowly exhale. Initially count to 7 as you exhale. This ought to be duplicated thrice. As you exhale the third time, sing "oooooooooo..." Feel the vibrations in your abdomen (and under your chest). After exhaling, relax for 2 seconds. Breathe in again (slow, deep breaths). As you exhale sing "ooooo..." and feel the vibrations in your chest and neck. After exhaling, relax for 2 seconds. Inhale again (long, deep breath). As you exhale, sing "mmmmmmmm...". Feel the vibrations in your head and neck. After exhaling, relax for 2 seconds. Inhale again and as you exhale say "oooommmm..." or "aaauuummm...". About 80% of the sound should be "aaauuu..." and 20% should be "mmmm...". Repeat the previous steps 3 times (you can do it up to 9 times). After the Om meditation, relax and concentrate on your regular breathing for about 5 minutes. TIPS -Wearing white clothes and being in a white environment will improve your experience. But the rule of white is not fundamental. -A good place could be a quiet room or a garden with shade. Your eyes, ears or other sensory organs should not be disturbed. -Do not consume alcohol for at least 8-10 hours before meditation. -It would be better not to eat or drink anything for at least 2 hours before meditation. The body's channels should not be blocked in order to achieve maximum results. This applies especially to the digestive system. -The best times for this meditation are early in the morning or late at night. -For beginners, singing "aum" can cause dizziness. It is recommended to proceed slowly and try to learn one step at a time. In this way you will prepare body and mind for the next step. -It is very important to open your eyes slowly when your breathing has stabilized. -If you cannot sit on the floor, you can try sitting on a bed or a chair. The most important thing is to keep your back straight. -Doing this kind of meditation in a group brings more peace and harmony to all members than doing it alone.
Nathan Blair (Vagus Nerve: The Ultimate Guide to Learn How to Access the Healing Power of the Vagus Nerve with Self-Help Exercises to Overcome Anxiety, Depression, Inflammation, Chronic Illness, PTSD and Trauma)
Elyssa was born to be a mother. She’s loving and caring by nature, and her favorite thing in the world is to spend the day in the garden with both boys. That’s what he needs—healing. Hope. Happiness.
Nicole Fox (Ripped Lace (Ripped Bratva, #2))
In one story we disassociate because we're broken. In another, we do precisely because we want to heal. My body fought for me before I could. It innovated and insulated me: creating the space for me to daydream myself into existence.
Alok Vaid-Menon (Your Wound, My Garden)