by Diana Killian
I’ve been out in the garden all day — pulling weeds and digging to find forgiveness within myself. I may hit China first. When I’m angry or out of sorts, I turn to the garden for refuge. It used to be writing, but attaching a deadline to my writing seems to have destroyed much of its therapeutic value. So now I hightail it out to the garden.
Sadly the months of neglect have turned my garden into a desert. Granted it was a desert to start with, so maybe it’s just full circle. Anyway, there’s something about the garden in the autumn. It’s the quality of light, the feel of the mellowed sunshine, the little chill in the breeze.
So I feel better. Tired, muscles aching. My heart is harder than bedrock, I am sorry to say, but perhaps a few more days of this and my anger will break apart like the soil I’m digging into, loosen and warm and relax into something where understanding can take root.
What do you when you’re angry? Do you write it out? Put it in your work? Pull weeds? Blog?