Your mind is a garden

 

The Garden in Mara’s Mind

Mara had always loved gardens. She loved the smell of damp soil, the tiny explosions of color from unexpected blooms, and the quiet way leaves whispered in the wind. But lately, she realized the garden she cared about most wasn’t outside—it was inside her own head.

Some days, Mara woke up and her mind felt like a morning in spring. Ideas popped up like cheerful daisies, laughter bubbled up effortlessly, and even the old worries seemed to sit politely in a corner. Those were the rose days, and she could wander through her thoughts like paths lined with petals.

Other days, however, were different. She woke up to a jungle of weeds—tangled, prickly, relentless. Anxiety climbed like ivy along every thought. Old fears sprouted like stubborn roots. She tried to push them aside, but the harder she fought, the more the weeds seemed to grow.

One particularly rough morning, Mara sat at her window, staring at her mind’s garden. She sighed. “I wish I could control the weather in here,” she muttered.

Then she remembered something her grandmother once said: “You can’t make the sun shine, but you can water the seeds.”

So Mara did what felt small but brave. She bent down, picking one little weed at a time, not trying to uproot everything at once. She planted a tiny seed of curiosity—a small promise to herself to try painting again, even for ten minutes. And then she poured a cup of tea, letting its warmth remind her that self-care was part of the soil she needed.

Days passed, and slowly, she noticed change. The weeds didn’t vanish overnight. The roses didn’t bloom perfectly every morning. But there was growth. There was color. There was life—and most importantly, there was Mara, tending to it all with gentleness instead of force.

She realized that her mind, like any garden, didn’t need to be flawless. It only needed her care, patience, and willingness to keep planting seeds—even on the stormiest days.

And on those days when the roses flourished? Mara walked through her thoughts with a quiet smile, knowing the weeds would return someday. And that was okay, too.

Because in the end, a garden—like a mind—wasn’t about perfection. It was about growth, resilience, and the simple act of tending to yourself, day by day.