We are extremely uncomfortable with the spiritual aspects of

In the heart of every garden, there lies a deep and ancient truth—one that has been acknowledged by cultures throughout history but is often overlooked in our modern world. Monty Don speaks to this hidden dimension when he says, "We are extremely uncomfortable with the spiritual aspects of gardening, and yet most people feel it in some form or other, even if it's a sense of connection to the greater world on a beautiful day." These words beckon us to recognize that the act of gardening is not just physical labor, but an expression of the sacred. The earth, in its quiet offering, invites us to enter into a spiritual relationship—a relationship that we may be reluctant to acknowledge, yet one that we experience deeply in the stillness of nature.

The ancient world knew well the profound connection between humanity and the earth. The great philosophers and sages of old understood that to cultivate the land was to cultivate the spirit. In the Greek tradition, for instance, the goddess Demeter was revered as the deity of agriculture and spiritual nourishment. The act of planting a seed was not just an act of feeding the body; it was an act of honoring the divine cycle of life, death, and rebirth. Plato, in his wisdom, recognized that the relationship between man and nature was not only physical but spiritual. He saw the natural world as a reflection of the eternal truths that governed the cosmos, and to tend to the earth was to align oneself with those higher principles. Gardening, in this light, was a form of spiritual practice—a way of connecting the soul to the divine order.

And yet, in the modern age, we have become uncomfortable with the spiritual aspects of gardening, as Don points out. We see it as a task to be completed, a chore to be finished. We tend to the soil without acknowledging the sacred rhythm that lies beneath our actions. This disconnection is not new. The Romans, in their great wisdom, understood that the garden was more than a place for food—it was a place where the human spirit could find solace. The great Roman philosopher Cicero often spoke of gardens as spaces of reflection, where the mind could find peace amid the hustle of life. Yet, even in their time, there were those who, like us today, failed to see the spiritual depth in their connection to the earth. They too, at times, reduced the garden to a mere space of utility, forgetting its deeper significance.

However, Monty Don reminds us that this spiritual connection still lives within us, even if we do not always acknowledge it. There are moments when, whether we are tending our gardens or simply walking through nature, we feel a sense of awe, a connection to something greater than ourselves. The ancients spoke often of this feeling. The Buddhists, for example, saw nature as a reflection of the divine—a manifestation of the impermanence and beauty of life. In their gardens, they practiced mindfulness, walking slowly, breathing deeply, and observing the way the earth moves in cycles. They understood that the act of gardening was not just about growth, but about understanding the interconnectedness of all things. To tend a plant, to water it, was to honor life itself and the rhythms that sustain it.

Consider the example of the great Zen gardens of Japan, which were designed not just for physical beauty but for spiritual reflection. The Zen master would carefully rake the gravel, arrange the stones, and plant the trees with a deep sense of awareness and presence. The act of tending the garden was a meditation—a way of bringing the mind into harmony with the natural world. The gardener, in this case, was not merely working the land, but was actively participating in the unfolding of the universe, understanding that every gesture, no matter how small, had its place in the great pattern of existence. In this way, the Zen garden became a sacred space, where the gardener could cultivate both the earth and the mind.

In the same way, we must come to understand that gardening is not just a practical task, but a spiritual practice that connects us to the deeper currents of life. The very act of planting, nurturing, and watching something grow is an act of faith—faith in the earth, faith in the process of life, and faith in the cycles of nature. As we dig our hands into the soil, we are not just planting seeds; we are planting hope. Each garden becomes a reflection of the larger universe—the cause and effect, the birth and death, the ebb and flow of all things. Gardening reminds us of our place in this vast and beautiful cycle.

So, let us take the wisdom of Monty Don and the ancients to heart. Let us recognize the spiritual depth in gardening, not as a mere task to be done, but as a way to connect to something greater than ourselves. Whether we are planting flowers in a garden or simply walking through the woods, let us be present in these moments, feeling the interconnectedness of all life. In doing so, we will find that, just as the earth nurtures the plants we tend, so too does it nurture our souls, offering us a deeper understanding of life itself. Through gardening, we may come to know not just the earth, but the very essence of being, and in that, we find our connection to the divine.