This is where I am. My life is a garden. For years I didn’t know the difference between weeds and flowers—some years I just didn’t care. So I planted a lot of weeds and pulled a lot of flowers. One day in 1997 I woke up in a briar patch. With mentors (and spiritual guides) I slowly learned the difference. They said, when you’re not sure just sit on your hands and do no more harm that day. Eventually the briar patch turned into a beautiful garden. In 2001 I met someone to share my life/garden with. We were married a year later. Just sharing these few words about our life together brings me tears of joy. Now we cultivate it together and it is truly wonderful. Not perfect mind you—we went to counseling for a year back around 2012, and just a couple of years ago we decided to work through a “couples” workbook titled Reconnecting that helped us work through some lingering issues. But speaking for myself I couldn’t be happier with how my life is unfolding now, at 73. Namaste and blessings to all in the new year.
What a beautiful arc of truth, care, and earned joy. You’ve just described the soul work in real time: the not-knowing, the missteps, the sitting on your hands when clarity hasn’t yet come, and the choice to keep tending the garden anyway. That line—I planted a lot of weeds and pulled a lot of flowers—that’ll stay with me. We all do that until we don’t.
And I love that you shared the continuing nature of your work—counseling, a workbook, the decision to keep cultivating, together. That’s not just a love story. That’s a consciousness story. At 73, you're not winding down—you’re rooted, blooming, and inviting others to do the same.
Thank you for bringing this into the space. It's the kind of living proof we need more of.
Thank you, Monica. You’re very kind. I see why you have so many followers. I’m often guilty of lies of omission (I take after the protagonist in my novel). It would be a lie of omission in reply to your post today if I failed to mention that I too love a good steak on occasion. Wife from NY and I’m from NJ, but we are retired in small-town south GA, so we’re following local custom and going to friends’ for a “supper” of collards and black-eyed peas (lots of wine—I make homemade Italian wine and our friends’ daughter has a wine shop in Atlanta). Have a great day, and enjoy that steak!
2026 is the year I stop betraying myself for comfort. Leaving the best job I ever had, a great community & financial security with no long-term plan and full faith that if I FINALLY follow my heart and trust THAT alone, the universe will provide. I’m so excited I could pee. So grateful to know I’m not in this alone.💜🙌
Oh my God, I felt that in my bones. That’s not a resolution—that’s a full-body declaration. Leaving the best job, the good community, the comfort of the known… that’s not crazy, that’s clarity. And yes, it’ll shake you sometimes, but it won’t break you.
Because when you stop betraying yourself, the whole universe does start shifting in your favor. Maybe not on a schedule. Maybe not with a tidy little plan. But with rhythm. With magic. With provision you couldn’t have predicted.
You’re not alone. You just joined the crew of folks who stopped asking for permission and started listening to what their soul has been whispering all along.
Pee-your-pants excitement is the correct energy. Stay with that. It’s proof you’re already in motion.
I stole this (and everything) from my own life for my novel, and put the words in the voice of the Buddhist college roommate of my protagonist, an ex-Catholic skeptic, who got into college as a hay-fever admit (explained on my profile, along with link to the novel), and who falls in love with a Jewish girl, much smarter than him. The interplay between these three characters and their religious backgrounds (and the love story between two of them) was part of my own quest to find a "higher power" that I could believe in. By the end of the novel, I got much closer. I'm not all the way there (finite man trying to make sense of the infinite). That's what I love about Substack, a lot of intelligent fellow-seekers with heart.
This is where I am. My life is a garden. For years I didn’t know the difference between weeds and flowers—some years I just didn’t care. So I planted a lot of weeds and pulled a lot of flowers. One day in 1997 I woke up in a briar patch. With mentors (and spiritual guides) I slowly learned the difference. They said, when you’re not sure just sit on your hands and do no more harm that day. Eventually the briar patch turned into a beautiful garden. In 2001 I met someone to share my life/garden with. We were married a year later. Just sharing these few words about our life together brings me tears of joy. Now we cultivate it together and it is truly wonderful. Not perfect mind you—we went to counseling for a year back around 2012, and just a couple of years ago we decided to work through a “couples” workbook titled Reconnecting that helped us work through some lingering issues. But speaking for myself I couldn’t be happier with how my life is unfolding now, at 73. Namaste and blessings to all in the new year.
What a beautiful arc of truth, care, and earned joy. You’ve just described the soul work in real time: the not-knowing, the missteps, the sitting on your hands when clarity hasn’t yet come, and the choice to keep tending the garden anyway. That line—I planted a lot of weeds and pulled a lot of flowers—that’ll stay with me. We all do that until we don’t.
And I love that you shared the continuing nature of your work—counseling, a workbook, the decision to keep cultivating, together. That’s not just a love story. That’s a consciousness story. At 73, you're not winding down—you’re rooted, blooming, and inviting others to do the same.
Thank you for bringing this into the space. It's the kind of living proof we need more of.
Thank you, Monica. You’re very kind. I see why you have so many followers. I’m often guilty of lies of omission (I take after the protagonist in my novel). It would be a lie of omission in reply to your post today if I failed to mention that I too love a good steak on occasion. Wife from NY and I’m from NJ, but we are retired in small-town south GA, so we’re following local custom and going to friends’ for a “supper” of collards and black-eyed peas (lots of wine—I make homemade Italian wine and our friends’ daughter has a wine shop in Atlanta). Have a great day, and enjoy that steak!
🔥😘❤️
2026 is the year I stop betraying myself for comfort. Leaving the best job I ever had, a great community & financial security with no long-term plan and full faith that if I FINALLY follow my heart and trust THAT alone, the universe will provide. I’m so excited I could pee. So grateful to know I’m not in this alone.💜🙌
⸻
Oh my God, I felt that in my bones. That’s not a resolution—that’s a full-body declaration. Leaving the best job, the good community, the comfort of the known… that’s not crazy, that’s clarity. And yes, it’ll shake you sometimes, but it won’t break you.
Because when you stop betraying yourself, the whole universe does start shifting in your favor. Maybe not on a schedule. Maybe not with a tidy little plan. But with rhythm. With magic. With provision you couldn’t have predicted.
You’re not alone. You just joined the crew of folks who stopped asking for permission and started listening to what their soul has been whispering all along.
Pee-your-pants excitement is the correct energy. Stay with that. It’s proof you’re already in motion.
Thank you 🙏
I stole this (and everything) from my own life for my novel, and put the words in the voice of the Buddhist college roommate of my protagonist, an ex-Catholic skeptic, who got into college as a hay-fever admit (explained on my profile, along with link to the novel), and who falls in love with a Jewish girl, much smarter than him. The interplay between these three characters and their religious backgrounds (and the love story between two of them) was part of my own quest to find a "higher power" that I could believe in. By the end of the novel, I got much closer. I'm not all the way there (finite man trying to make sense of the infinite). That's what I love about Substack, a lot of intelligent fellow-seekers with heart.