Autumn came late this year, so in mid-March although the pink flowers (whose names I don't really know) were still in full bloom, I could already feel the shift in the breeze, and the days getting shorter, winter was definitely on it's way.
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Like all responsible garderners, it was time to prepare my garden for the months ahead. First things first, turn the soil, add compost and that white salt-like stuff the guy at Garden City said works like multi-vitamins, then just add water. That made me think of cooking, I've always enjoyed gardening and cooking, it's so artistic and therapeutic as well.
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Now maybe it's the strong Lavender fragrance or perhaps dehydration from being in the sun that long, but I suddenly had a thought that felt like a question coming from outside of myself. As I answered the question, another one was asked, this is how the conversation went:
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God: If you could describe me in one word what would it be?
Me: Hmmm, an artist I think. You tend to do a lot of things that make very little sense at first, but when they're done it all creates a beautiful perfect picture.
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God: How so?
Me: Well, think about artists. They paint bold dark strokes on a page, you sit as a spectactor and think, you're ruining the canvas. They don't need to explain themselves to you, they just continue. As the beautiful image unfolds, you're in awe of the picture you see and how those initial strokes enhance something that was part of a greater master plan. (well, maybe not you in person being God and all, you already know the masterplan, having written it and everything )
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God: That's a good thing, right?
Me: Doesn't always feel like it, but yeah, I guess it's cool.
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God: Can I ask you something?
Me: Sure, I always thought you could look into my heart and stuff, but actually I'm glad you're not. I often tell my friends that you're a gentleman, that's why you don't charge for the free concerts every Sunday,
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God: *smiles* Do you like me?
Me: Eish... That's a deep one. I think I love your work, need you a lot and love what you stand for, but perhaps your choice in friends isn't really my cuppa tea.
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God: What's wrong with my friends?
Me: Let's not go there. I think I need to take a break,
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God: Okay, enough about my friends. But back to the concept of artist,
Me: Oh definitely. There's a certain magic about some of the things you do that always blows my mind. I mean for instance sunsets, each and every sunset is a portrait across the sky. Then there's the sound of children laughing, Oskido aint got nothing on you. Waterfalls, flowers, it's all so magical. And another thing I like about you, nothing happens in straight lines in nature, just like in life.
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God: That's true, do you have any questions for me?
Me: Ummm, only 1001. But the first maybe is, why do bad things happen to good people?
God: *Sighs* You know your example of the artist. A dark stroke against a canvas isn't punishment, it's the background for something greater in future. Think about it this way, 6 billion canvasses being drawn all at once, all meant to create beautiful images. Sometimes it's not that your own canvas has been neglected, but I'm just waiting for the paint to dry, and then as I'm drawing flowers on the canvas next to yours you feel like I've abandoned you,
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Me: I feel you. And in fact, you know what, it's just like the seasons. A friend of mine once said *sometimes it has to be winter* and as I grow up that's becoming even more clear. I always hated winter because I found it so harsh, but actually, a lot of good comes from winter. I get a lot of my writing done, spending all that time indoors helps with my #CisheNgabaiYellowBone complexion, and the time to think, it's just a matter of how you view it I guess.
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God: Yeah, and sometimes people spend so much time in summer, they feel that when winter comes it's a punishment, but it's not. It's all about regeneration. Like what you're doing now, preparing for the next season, oh and also giving me a hand as I do what must be done to change seasons,
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Me: Giving You a hand? But you're God, you don't need my help,
God: Of course I do. Everyone needs a hand, even me. If you plant a bed of roses outside a prison, you're planting hope and reminding people of beauty and innocence. Ultimately, you're helping to the bigger agenda.
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Me: There's an agenda?
God: Of course there is. You know how you always like to say to say, energy cannot be created or destroyed it can only be transferred? Love is that energy. Each time you experience beauty, it restores your innocence. Renews that *and I don't mean to be arrogant* Godly side of you. That's love,
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Me: Oh don't get me started on the love part,
God: Why?
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Me: You know why, let's change the subject,
God: It's your garden, your rules, what do you wanna talk about?
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Me: My mom wouldn't be impressed with me telling God to change the subject. Okay, let's talk about love. Why do the most loving people get treated so badly?
God: Depends how you define love. Do they give a lot? Do they know what it means to love? Do they love in order to be loved back?
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Me: I don't know, when we're born we don't really come with a *How-To* book, so how are they supposed to do it?
God: I know some people don't like it when I go around in circles to get to a point but read Zama's note 'Love possesses not' and then look at nature. There is an abundance of love and those who see love in it's truest form, can never be hurt by it.
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Me: Have you heard Alicia Keyes song: 'Have you ever tried sleeping with a broken heart?' Not sure if you've ever had a broken heart, but that one thing is Not pretty, and no person in their right mind could ever choose it. #MeThinks
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God: Why do you keep gardening when some of your plants die or the grass goes brown in winter?
Me: It's my happy place this garden, kinda like my own version of heaven. But I don't get what that's got to do with broken hearts,
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God: Everything, hearts break when people stop loving and start wanting to control. Nature, like love, cannot be held too tightly in a single form. It has to be allowed to speak it's own truth, walk it's own path. The true beauty of a sunset is that for that day you looked up and it had chosen to express itself in that unique way. Choose to love it daily not for what it's expressed, but for being a sunset.
If you cried each day you saw it in a different way to what it chose to be yesterday, then you never loved sunsets, you loved your idea of them. And as you know, I'm unpredictable. So falling in love with a season hoping it will last forever, is sure to bring you unintended pain.
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Me: Eish, that's hard to hear. I feel you on allowing it to choose it's own path. Do you have any advice for me on how to grow love, I mean, to not mess it up when it is here?
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God: If you need me to answer that then you're not yet a gardener. All the garden multi-vitamins on earth cannot force something that shouldn't be, yet all the strongest dam walls cannot hold back something that must be. I've got to run, The Soil is playing at the State Theatre, love those kids! Let's do this again soon, okay,
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Me: Cheers, next time, if it's not much trouble, please bring me the winning Powerball numbers (",)
God: I think I might just do that, cheers beautiful!
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Love Possesses Not (Zama's Note)
Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself,
Love possessses not nor would it be possessed;
For love is sufficient unto love.
When you love you should not say. "God is in my heart," but rather, "I am in the heart of God"
And think not you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.
Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself.
But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:
To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
and to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstacy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and sing a song of praise upon your lips.
(taken from the book 'Speak to us of love' - Reflections on Kahlil Gibran's The Prophet by Osho)
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