Simon and the Garden of his Soul

Simon planted the garden of his soul so that he might enjoy this life. He hoped that the plants and flowers would bring him happiness and contentment. But no matter what he planted, how he tended it, or what it said on the packet, nothing would grow. Plants would spring up for a few days, but then with a sinking feeling he would watch them die. What should have made him happy with its colours and early morning scents, invariably just made him despair. All around him was wasted effort and the stench of rotting vegetation. Simon, however, was a fighter and would not give up. Everyday he tried something new, everyday he faced with optimism; every seed was full of the opportunity for growth. And yet there came a day, as surely there must, when Simon knelt down in the garden of his soul and wept.

He cried for years – failure, was an admission as deep as death. As he cried his tears became a river, they ran in rivulets through his optimism, carried away his hope on their tide. They ran down his face, and dripped onto his hands where, almost imperceptibly, small shoots started to appear. Simon was horrified and plucked them out. But he couldn’t stop them, they appeared in increasing numbers, every day the situation grew worse, Simon cut and pulled, but he was fighting a loosing battle. In the end he had to give up. Worn-out he stopped, and watched himself changing. He slowly sat down in the garden of his soul and started to grow. First flowers, then shrubs, then great swaying trees. Birds and butterflies danced around him like sunlight off water. As Simon sat there he thought. This is the loveliest thing I could ever have grown, and as he thought it all of heaven broke out in a chorus of joy. The whole of life; from the tinniest creature to the vastest gulf of space, resonated with him. Simon was alive, Hallelujah!