My Secret Garden

A while ago a friend told me about a private garden a block and a half from my home. One has to ask permission to visit, and somehow, this small barrier prevented me from going.


Until now.

I regret that I hesitated for so long.

Every day I look forward to packing my bag and walking to my oasis.

Beyond the heavy iron gate is a small park nestled within a city block cloister. There is a large lawn shaded by ancient trees.

A colorful border of shaggy roses, giant dahlias, butterfly bushes, crepe myrtles, heavy hydrangeas, salvia, cheery cone flowers, lavender, rose of sharon, and firework monarda surround the buildings and paths.

There are chairs on the lawn. Patio furniture is provided next to one of the buildings. Thankfully, this furniture is in the shade so it is perfect for working on my laptop.

I love flowers and trees, but I am not a gardener. The city is my favorite environment, yet I enjoy being outside. The sensation of being warmed by the Sun is something I really crave.

My apartment is hot, dark, and stuffy. Being able to work in this beautiful outdoor environment each day is a blessing. Usually there is a breeze, so it is about five degrees cooler than my home. The degree to which these visits lift my mood surprises me.

At first, I felt a bit like an intruder in the garden. There aren't many people around and those that are there tend to be quiet. But everyone I see is quite friendly and we are starting to recognize each other and nod hello.

It feels as if I finally have a bit of earth, and it was free. All I had to do was ask for permission.

Retreat

It has been a particularly brutal weather week. Every day the temperature has been in the 90s, so the air conditioning is on. But it makes little difference in a railroad apartment with little air circulation. All of the cool air sits in one room and is quickly overcome by the hot air rising from apartments three stories below.

My mermaid friend lives about 1,000 feet from the Ocean in Coney Island. She has a new boy friend in upstate New York, and travels to see him most weekends. Since she would be away a long time over the holiday weekend, she invited me to enjoy her home in her absence.

I love the fact that I can take the subway to the beach. The change in environment in such a short distance (as the crow flies) is remarkable. The air must be about 5-10 degrees cooler in Coney Island than it is in Manhattan.

At the mermaid's apartment by the water, it is even cooler. I had to wear a sweater at night.

I brought a stack of New Yorker magazines and a sack of groceries. It was great to relax and enjoy reading in the garden or on the sand.

And it was wonderful to be able to use the oven and stove to cook real food. There is a thermometer in my apartment kitchen, and it was hovering between 95-100 degrees. Even boiling water makes the kitchen intolerable. The nights at the beach were so cool I was able to roast corn in the oven!

Since I was in a place that was large enough for entertaining, I invited a few people to visit. My yogini friend was the first to accept my offer.

We met in India. She was my first room mate there, and I adore her thoroughly. She is also looking for work and having a very lean year. Lately, she has been too depressed to socialize. She almost didn't make it to the beach, but it was a blessing that she did. We had a wonderful visit.

A horrid break-up and a bad dye job had left her feeling wretched. We conversed in the garden, consulted the tarot, walked on the beach, and plotted for her to find a studio from which she could teach yoga classes.

It was as if our meeting nourished her in some way.

When we were in India, she cared for me while I was sick. Although she barely knew me, she sprang out of bed at 3am and routed through her medicine chest to find the right homeopathic remedies. I think she stayed up with me for the rest of the night. In the morning she consulted with our guide on my behalf. My choices were to stay alone in this isolated, tiny town a day's journey from a hospital or to take a grueling day-long bus ride over dirt roads to Pushkar. She got me through the bus trip.

I feel a strong bond with her.

At a time when I have little to offer, it felt marvelous to share my borrowed piece of paradise with her. She arrived agitated and sad, but she left feeling hopeful and refreshed. Her beautiful face was glowing again. She said the change in environment had a profound positive impact on her.

It really is far more satisfying to share good fortune than to hoard it. A friend helped me and I was able to help a friend. This truly makes me happy.