What I Learn from Gardening

The natural way of life can offer profound wisdom for our inner journey.

Recently, at home, we planted a small pot of flowers. At first glance, it seemed like a simple activity, just some flower pots we bought, which we continued to water and wait for. Some were already grown, while others began from seeds we placed into the soil. But in the quiet process of observing how those seeds got into the soil and grew from there to become bigger plants, something shifted in me. I began to observe the process more deeply, and from this little pot of life, so many lessons began to bloom.

Sometimes when I think about the process of planting, I feel it is a lot like a personal journey. If I want to change, I absolutely can, but just like in gardening, change takes time, care, and patience, and I can’t expect the plants to grow all by itself if I don’t pour actual effort into watering them. The realization struck me like thunder on a sunny day: if I want to grow a plant, like any plant at all, I must first plant a seed or perhaps someone else plant a seed in me like the bird scattering seeds over the soil. And no matter how much I wish for it, that seed won’t become a blooming flower or a tall tree by tomorrow morning. And this is not something I haven’t known before (maybe you have heard of this too), but it is a different knowing when you live through that knowing without someone pointing out to you what it is or should be about, rather it is a kind of knowing that goes deep in the bone.

Sometimes, nothing seems to be happening on the surface at all but underneath, deep roots are forming. 

Growth unfolds slowly, gently, and quietly. And that truth mirrored something in my own inner journey. So often, I’ve found myself expecting instant transformation and fast results, thinking that if I just try hard enough, change should happen overnight, that if I exercise today, my body will grow stronger by tomorrow. But nature reminds me otherwise. In order to grow into who I want to become, I first need to plant new habits, perhaps un-plants old habits, nurture new experiences, or co-seeding with others new ways of being, and then tend to them patiently, with acceptance again and again. The soil must be nourished. The weeds must be removed. And sometimes, nothing seems to be happening on the surface at all but underneath, deep roots are forming. 

Gardening teaches me to value the process rather than obsessing with quick results.

We live in a world obsessed with speed. Quick fixes. Shortcuts. How to be successful in 3 months. We want immediate results, instant gratification. But that is not how nature works. And perhaps that’s why gardening feels so healing because it pulls me back to the natural pace of life. It teaches me to be more patient with the process, even if I cannot see the outcome.

And here’s something else I’ve learned: when I stop rushing, when I shift my focus from results to the journey itself, something else happens along the way. I begin to observe things I never thought would matter, and I find beauty in that process of learning through observations such as when the tiny green sprout breaks through the soil, the way the sunlight falls across the leaves, the way the flowers finally bloom massively in one night, the way I can smell the soil whenever I water them, all of these tiny moments makes the journey itself fulfilling. And yes, before that process I never thought was vital, because in my mind I always wanted to see a blooming rose and nothing else but sometimes, there is more beauty in the process than in the outcome. And just like that, gardening becomes more than a task to complete, it becomes a way of remembering how to live. 

Trust the process, keep water, something might be on its way.

There is deep wisdom in the garden. It reminds us that all things: our dreams, our healing, our becoming, it all needs time and patience. That tending to something, day by day, is how we grow roots strong enough to weather the storm.

So the next time when you feel stuck, or impatient with yourself, or wondering why change feels so slow, think of the little seed. Buried in soil without any appearance or result coming up, but life and root forming underneath. Trust the process. Keep watering. Keep tending. Something might be on its way.