Walking like I own the place. I don’t. Not even the plants.
If you think about it, each of us has our own garden. And whatever’s growing in there is a reflection of us.
Our skills, our experiences, our wins, our harvest.
Our rubbish, our flaws, our failures. All of it.
Which also means two things:
I don’t get to walk into your garden and start planting roses because I like them in mine. Maybe you’re allergic. Maybe you don’t have the space. Maybe roses remind you of your ex. Suggesting something for your plot? Great. Expecting you to perfectly copy my patch? Rude.
I also don’t have to let anyone dump their trash in my garden. There’s a difference between sharing a problem and handing it over aka throwing it over my fence. Sharing is saying, “Here’s what I’m dealing with. Got any advice?” Dumping is, “Here, you fix it.” One invites perspective. The other expects free labour. And we are not in the business of managing someone else’s messy garden just because they can’t be bothered.
If you’re not bringing me seeds, don’t give me weeds.
The point is, your garden is yours.
Plant what you want. Nurture what you can. Pull out the weeds, admire the flowers. And don’t apologise for what grows there, or for what doesn’t.
At the end of the day, we’re all gardeners of our own chaos. Some days you’re harvesting tomatoes, some days you’re pulling weeds, and some days you’re staring at the soil thinking, “Well… this looks dead.” All valid. Just don’t hand me your compost bin and call it a gift.
TL;DR: Tend your own garden. Water what matters. And if someone insists on dropping trash over the fence? Hand them a broom, not your peace of mind.
M.
xx
Manuja
Not for everyone. Never was.
