Live Mindfully. Thrive Consciously.
This spring and summer, I have been consumed with my gardens. I’ve redesigned beds, moved plants, studied the sunlight, amended soil, pruned branches, pulled weeds, and paid closer attention than ever to what is thriving—and what is struggling. At times, I’ve wondered why I felt so compelled to make so many changes.
Perhaps the garden has been teaching me something. Because the more closely I observe what helps a plant thrive, the more I realize that we are not so different.
Right Plant, Right Place
Every gardener has heard the advice: right plant, right place. Give a plant the right amount of sunlight, water, good soil, and proper care, and it should thrive. Except I’ve discovered it isn’t quite that simple.
Last year, we removed several enormous trees and oversized rhododendrons that had long outgrown their spaces. Suddenly, the light patterns throughout my gardens changed. Places that had been deeply shaded became brighter, while areas I assumed received plenty of southern exposure remained surprisingly dark because the surrounding woodlands blocked the sun.
So, this year, I started really paying attention. I actually timed the sunlight in different areas and began to understand why some of my plants had been struggling. A lilac planted in what seemed like a sunny southern exposure wasn’t receiving nearly enough light or airflow. My tall phlox was weak and spindly because the dappled shade I thought was lovely wasn’t giving it the sunshine it craved. And my once-gorgeous Korean lilac had become overshadowed by an enormous rhododendron. The two weren’t merely competing for light; the rhododendron thrived in acidic soil while the lilac preferred something quite different.
Both are beautiful plants. They simply aren’t good neighbors.
How often does that happen to us?
What Do You Need to Thrive?
We humans have individual requirements, too. Some people flourish amid activity, conversation, and companionship, while others require considerable quiet and solitude to replenish themselves. Some thrive in the bright light of visibility and activity; others need periods of gentle shade and contemplation.
We all need nourishment, rest, healthy relationships, purpose, movement, fresh air, nutritious food, clean water, and meaningful connection—but the balance isn’t identical for everyone. Sometimes we can be doing everything we think we’re supposed to do and still wonder why we aren’t thriving.
Maybe, like my lilac, we need more light. Maybe we need better nourishment or room to breathe. Or perhaps we need to take a closer look at what’s growing around us.
My little astilbes taught me this lesson. They prefer shade, so I planted them in shady places, yet they remained stunted and dried out. Eventually, I realized the problem wasn’t above ground—it was underneath. The enormous maple trees nearby had extensive root systems quietly competing for the available moisture. My tiny astilbes never had much of a chance. I’ve now moved them to another shady area without those enormous roots beneath them, and I’m hoping they will finally be happy there.
Sometimes we can’t immediately see what’s draining us either. We may appear to be in the perfect environment, yet something continually consumes our resources. Perhaps it’s an unhealthy relationship, an overwhelming schedule, constant negativity, too much news or social media, or someone we love who continually needs more from us than we can sustainably give.
That doesn’t necessarily make the other person bad. I don’t blame my maple trees for having big roots—they’re simply doing what maple trees do. My responsibility as the gardener is to recognize what the smaller plant needs and give it a place where it has an opportunity to thrive.
Perhaps we need to become equally discerning gardeners of our own lives.
Weed, Prune, and Make Room to Grow
Of course, not everything growing in a garden belongs there.
Some invasive plants are actually quite pretty. Yet left unchecked, they spread aggressively, crowding out the plants we intentionally chose and consuming the light, water, space, and nutrients they need. Gardeners sometimes call them bullies.
We can have bullies in our lives, too—not always people, but habits, obligations, worries, distractions, or relationships that consume far more energy than we realize. Something may even appear attractive or harmless while gradually taking over space that once belonged to creativity, joy, meaningful relationships, or new opportunities.
Pulling the weeds isn’t being unkind. It’s making room for what we want to grow.
Pruning is equally important. Deadwood continues to consume space and can interfere with healthy new growth. We prune not because the branch was never valuable, but because its season has ended.
Life has deadwood, too: old resentments, outdated beliefs, commitments we’ve outgrown, unfinished emotional business, or patterns that once served us but no longer do. Holding onto them can consume energy that might otherwise flow toward something new.
There is wisdom in knowing what to nurture, what to prune, and what to release.
And sometimes, rather than pruning, we simply need to move something.
Yesterday, our landscape crew transplanted eleven mid-to-large flowering bushes and trees that had been struggling for different reasons. Eleven! There are still several more to go. These aren’t bad plants, and the places where they were originally planted aren’t bad places. They’re simply no longer the right places.
What a wonderful way to think about boundaries. We don’t always need to blame someone or decide that one of us is right and the other is wrong. Sometimes we simply need more space between the plants. We can love someone and still recognize that too much exposure to their energy leaves us depleted. Sometimes a little space allows both people to grow.
Create a Healthy Ecosystem
Perhaps my favorite surprise this summer has been the tiny frogs. They are everywhere in my gardens, and I’ve noticed there seem to be fewer troublesome insects as well.
I garden as naturally as possible. Instead of spreading pesticides or putting out traps for every slug, I’ve tried to create a healthy environment—and apparently, the frogs approve. They happily eat slugs and other insects. Hummingbirds find nectar among the flowers rather than depending upon sugar water. Bees move among the blossoms. Birds fill the trees and gardens. The more naturally I tend the garden, the more life seems to arrive.
I didn’t tell the frogs to come. I simply helped create an environment where they could thrive.
And that made me wonder: What would happen if we tended our own lives the same way? Instead of continually fighting everything that might disturb or deplete us, perhaps we could put more attention into creating a physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual environment that naturally supports our well-being.
Nourish What You Want to Grow
Healthy plants need healthy nourishment, and so do we. What we eat matters. Nutritious, wholesome foods, clean water, movement, fresh air, and adequate rest provide the physical foundation we need to flourish.
But nourishment isn’t only physical. What thoughts are we feeding ourselves? What conversations are we consuming? What are we watching and reading? Who receives our time and attention? What brings us joy? What connects us with something greater than ourselves?
We can be extremely careful about what we put on our gardens while indiscriminately allowing all sorts of things into our minds, emotions, and energy. Everything we take in becomes part of the environment in which we live.
And the garden reminds us that nothing in nature is expected to bloom all the time. Flowers open and close. There is daylight and darkness, activity and rest, growth and dormancy, sunshine and rain. Yet we often expect ourselves to remain constantly productive, available, responsive, giving, and strong.
Rest feeds the opportunity for growth. It is part of the rhythm that makes growth possible.
Tend Your Energy Like a Garden
Perhaps this is what protecting our energy really means. It isn’t about living in fear of everything that might affect us. A good gardener doesn’t stand anxiously guarding every plant. We tend the garden. We observe what is happening, nourish what needs nourishment, pull what is invasive, prune what has completed its purpose, protect vulnerable new growth, and recognize when something needs more sunlight, more shade—or simply a different place to grow.
We can tend our own energy with that same loving discernment. Creating Sacred Space, setting an intention for the day, spending time in nature, nourishing our bodies, choosing supportive relationships, establishing healthy boundaries, clearing what we’ve picked up from others, and allowing ourselves periods of quiet all help create an environment in which our energy can remain strong and clear.
For years, I’ve taught the importance of caring for the physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual aspects of ourselves and developing regular spiritual hygiene. This summer, my garden has given me a wonderfully simple way to understand it.
Create the Conditions to Thrive
A thriving garden doesn’t happen by accident. We prepare the soil, provide nourishment, make room for the light, water what we want to grow, pull what threatens to take over, prune what has completed its purpose, move what is struggling, welcome healthy companions, and protect without poisoning.
Then we trust life to do what life knows how to do.
And sometimes, when we’ve created just the right environment, tiny frogs appear among the flowers to remind us that nature has an extraordinary ability to find its balance.
Perhaps we do, too.
Nourish your body. Tend your thoughts. Choose your surroundings. Protect your energy. Make room for quiet. Surround yourself with people who help you grow. Release what no longer serves you. And give yourself permission to thrive in your own beautiful way.
Live Mindfully. Thrive Consciously.
… and be grateful for rainy days!
Blessings of Life & Light,
Lois Hermann
