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Six Messages from a Wild Garden

Message 3: Sunshine


Two metal bitterns with beaks reaching up into the sky. Green grass. Setting sun reflected orange and pink in the clouds.
A pair of metal bitterns admiring the sunset at Evergreen.

When I spend time in my garden on the south coast of Western Australia, it tells me about six things that start with the letter ‘S’.

 

Seeds. Seasons. Sunshine. Soil. Suffering. Sweetness.

 

Today I want to share my garden’s message about Sunshine.


Sunshine

 

Several decades ago, when I was twenty-one and living in the USA, I went hiking with fellow students through the Rawah Wilderness, part of the Medicine Bow range, near the border of Wyoming and Colorado, just north of Rocky Mountain National Park.

 

The days were bright and cool. The nights were freezing.  

 

Sleeping deeply from exhaustion, then emerging out of my tent into the ice-cold mountain morning with arms wrapped tightly around my body to preserve the lingering heat of sleep, I almost worshipped the warmth of the rising sun.

 

One of the most wonderful sights for a human being is the sun peeping over the horizon after a long, dark night. No wonder our wandering ancestors, who regarded the sun as a benevolent god making its grand daily journey across the sky, bowed down to it with reverence to show it appreciation so it would keep coming back every morning to light and warm their world.

 

We now know that the sun isn’t a god but an immense ball of hot gas. It’s mostly made of mundane things like hydrogen and helium which will all burn up in about five billion years. This fact about the sun running out of fuel and disappearing is hard to get my head around, but at least I won’t be around to see it happen.

 

 

Light and Warmth

 

The sun’s light and warmth is so much a part of our lives that we don’t think about it, unless it’s hidden from view by dark clouds for many days, which can affect us with feelings ranging from lowness of spirits to deep depression.

 

We need warmth and light to survive and thrive.

 

When I’m wandering around my garden at Evergreen, picking fennel and mint, pulling a cheeky weed, snipping a flower head to collect the seeds or just sipping a morning coffee, it frequently strikes me that the sun isn’t selective. It’s not mean. There’s no withholding or diverting of its rays. There is no judgement involved. No discrimination. No exceptions.

 

It bathes the whole garden with its inner being.

 

This quality of the sun splashing the whole world with sunshine as much as is geographically possible, is a daily reminder to me to freely shed light and warmth to everyone and everything that falls within my rays of influence.

 

No withholding or diverting. No judgement. No discrimination. No exceptions.


Scene with two-storey wooden hosue in midground surrounded by trees Sunrise on left with yellow clouds, partially blue sky, green grass and autum leaves on trees.
Sunrise at Evergreen.

The Good We Do Goes On and On 


When the sun’s rays hit the earth, some of the energy is absorbed and some of it bounces back into the atmosphere, creating an endless cycle of positive energetic exchanges.

 

When I become sunshine for someone or something, a certain amount of the warm, light, energetic rays I’m giving off are absorbed by the focus of my intention and the rest of it is reflected on, I know not where.

 

When we are sunshine, we’re like the sun.

 

The good that we do goes on and on and on.

 

With love, Marlane


Scene with two-storey wooden house in midground surrounded by trees Sunrise on left with purple and rose pink and orange sky, green grass and autum leaves on trees.
Another sunrise.

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