horticultural home

jesus never stayed in the garden of gethsemane.

neither did i stay practicing my catholic faith.

but there is wisdom in these ancient anecdotes that's still appropriate today. exposing your vulnerability and crying in the comfort of a walled garden is just the right place to recuperate. i can keep whining about my history of getting hit in the head with its long-term and invisible effects. the suffering is real, yes. but it doesn't have to be permanent. no matter how weak your body feels like, as long as your spirit stays strong, you will endure. so say your piece, cry your tears, and pack up your things. but doing so doesn't necessarily ensure that it's going to be easier. in fact, it's almost always a foreshadowing of the worst to come. you don't agonize over an impending nuisance. it is usually followed by a much bigger hurdle to overcome.

as soon as you're out into the wilderness, you won't have your floral fortification to protect you from everything wrong in the world: the treachery, the condemnation, the injustices. hardships are always against your will. but you have to face them. because not doing so prolongs the impending fear of punishment. it's sub-optimal to live a stalled life of procrastinating to pay the price of moving forward. however, it's likewise understandable that we're petrified from progressing into painful periods of our lives. but again, you have to face them. head on. without reservations.

being overly dramatic in a safe space surrounded by flowers and trees in the olden days is just as believable now compared to being found alive after dying nailed to a piece of wood. it's a stretch to interpret the figurative meaning of resurrections as coming out better from transcending the toughest test of your life.

that's why you don't see me in church on sundays.