The Garden Gate | Invitations For The Heart - Episode 23

What if the ordinary moments of life are actually sacred thresholds? In this gentle and reflective episode of Light in the Garden, Lulu explores the symbolism of garden gates, the guarded places of the heart, and the quiet invitations that lead us toward deeper presence, surrender, and love.

Transcript

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Welcome to Light in the Garden, a soft place to land, breathe, and remember who you truly are. I'm Lulu, and this podcast is my offering just for you. Here we explore the quiet places where the human and the divine meet, through stories from the road, the lake, where I spend many hours, and the long path of my own becoming. Each episode is simply a companion for your heart. Thank you for joining me today. I'm so very glad you're here. This episode is called The Garden Gate. I have always loved garden gates, particularly old ones. Wooden gates softened by rain and time feel deeply nostalgic to me. You can almost see in your mind's eye families from years ago entering and leaving through the day, school children heading out in the morning with books tucked under their arms, fathers returning home in the evening, the gate opening and closing over and over again as ordinary life unfolds. I also love wrought iron gates covered with honeysuckle or climbing roses, pruned carefully so the opening and closing of the gate remains unhindered. Gates that make you wonder what might be waiting on the other side. As a child I always wanted to peek through the cracks of a gate. I knew certainly that something magical must be hidden there. Maybe a secret garden, maybe a fountain, maybe peace itself. One of my childhood friends had a swimming pool, and I remember thinking perhaps the peace that did not live at my house might somehow be living there instead behind the gate. My puppy Finn seems to share that same curiosity. Finn doesn't merely walk through openings, he studies them. He believes every slightly open space is a personal invitation from the universe. I have a wide trellis with wisteria growing over it, and until I got Finn, I never needed a gate there. But it quickly became apparent that this little fur covered Houdini would require gates in his life because apparently he believes boundaries are merely suggestions. So I hired a couple of guys to come build a gate for me and for the safety of Finn. So far, so good regarding his escape antics. There are many beautiful things about a gate. It can open and close at the discretion of the person touching it. One gate may creak softly while another hangs silently on well oiled hinges. A key might be required to open it. It may remain locked or it may stand wide open, allowing anyone to enter or leave freely. A garden gate is fascinating because it separates worlds. It can be an invitation or a boundary. Inside the gate we may experience beauty, quiet, presence, and soul nourishment. We may hear the lilt song of a bright red cardinal, or feel our bare feet connecting with the earth. We may carry our honey laced tea into the sanctuary of the garden and sit quietly in prayer beneath the shade of a tree. Outside the gate, the world of hurry and noise may predominate with notifications and traffic, pressure and distractions. We may spend entire days rushing from one obligation to another, staring at screens and seeking a level of productivity that never quite satisfies the soul. I find a gate to be the perfect metaphor for the heart. The heart carefully guards our softest and most vulnerable inner world, our emotions, our tenderness, our capacity to trust, our ability to love. And perhaps the heart is also the access point for openness to the divine. At this gateway, we make every truly important decision of our lives. Some gates in life are obvious, like how long it may take for heartbreak to heal. Sometimes fear itself stands guard at the entrance to the heart. Some people close the gate, lock it, and bolt it shut forever. In fact, I have a neighbor who once told me he would never get another dog because the pain of losing his beloved companion had simply hurt too much. And yet, perhaps, without realizing it, he may also be turning away from the unconditional love and joy another dog might someday bring. Other gates are more subtle. We do not always recognize them as thresholds, opening us into higher ways of living. We decide to forgive or not. We decide to ask for help or not. We decide to begin again. We decide to enter a relationship or leave one. We decide to become vulnerable. We decide to slow down. And perhaps the biggest decision of all is simply surrender. I had to do this about 20 years ago. It was the big surrender. For years I had watched other people doing things that I secretly believed were also mine to do, but fear kept me standing outside the gate. Eventually I reached a breaking point. Though spirit had been there all along waiting for me, supporting me, gently calling me forward. I was the one who had to open the gate. I was simply too exhausted to ca continue carrying my life alone, too tired to cry alone, too weary trying to force my life forward. Opening the gate became my salvation. It allowed me to enter the sanctuary by the lake and let my tears of surrender fall there. And strangely enough, years later, life handed me another gate entirely, this time within my own literal heart. I have spoken before about my heart procedures. There was an opening in my heart that over the course of eighteen years resulted in multiple strokes before the medical community finally discovered the cause. It took that long. But strangely enough, that opening became a gateway. Not only did the repair, which ultimately required two procedures, release much of the fear surrounding future strokes, but during those nearly two weeks in the hospital I experienced miracle after miracle. Friends showed up, family showed up, hospital staff surrounded me with extraordinary care. I felt as though the gates of love had been flung open and I was standing beneath a great fountain of grace. There are hundreds of beautiful verses in the Bible that comfort and encourage me, and hopefully you as well. Matthew seven, seven and eight says, Ask and it will be given to you. Seek and you will find. As we slow down for just a few moments and notice the sunlight pouring through the slats of a gate, hear the gravel beneath our feet, breathe in the fragrance of night blooming jasmine climbing overhead, or watch dragonflies drifting lazily nearby. We cross a threshold from the noisy outer world into the quiet sanctuary hidden behind the gate. And there are always more thresholds waiting to be noticed. Opening your journal and resting your hand upon the page before writing the first word can be a threshold. Watching a hawk land nearby and quietly greeting him a threshold. Stepping into the kitchen to prepare a meal for yourself or someone you love. Turning on the faucet to gather water and turning it off again. Even these are thresholds. These are gates. These are tiny crossings that quietly shape a life. Every meaningful season of my life seems to begin at some kind of gate. Maybe the gate was never there to keep us out. Maybe it was there to ask whether we were finally ready to enter it consciously. I'd like to offer a longer breathing space now. An invitation to let this teaching land in your body, not just your mind. I call it Step Through Your Gate. Find a comfortable place in your home, nestled cozily in a chair or a sofa or even your bed. And simply allow yourself to arrive at that place. Not in yesterday, not in tomorrow, not in the thing waiting for your attention. Just here. Right now. And take a slow breath in. And let it go gently. Again, breathing in. And let it go. These are the moments in life that seem small from the outside. A pause at the kitchen sink, the sound of birds in the early morning, sunlight moving slowly across the floor, the feeling of warm water moving across your hands. And yet, somehow, these ordinary moments quietly hold us together. Perhaps peace has never been as far away as we imagined. Perhaps it has been waiting inside small moments all along. Take another breath. Just breathe. And notice the support beneath your body. Notice the rhythm of your breathing. Notice that for these few moments you do not need to accomplish anything. You do not need to solve your life. You do not need to hurry. You are simply invited to notice. Notice the air entering your lungs. Notice the soft rise and fall of your chest. Notice the quiet space that exists beneath thought. And perhaps there is a kind of wisdom that only appears when we slow down enough to see it. Not dramatic wisdom. Not lightning bolts. Just the gentle knowing that comes when the soul finally stops rushing. Imagine now that your entire body softens just a little bit more. Shoulders releasing, your jaw unclenching, your breathing becoming easier. And as you rest here, allow yourself to feel how many small moments of grace have already carried you through your life. A kind word, a sweet smile, a breeze through an open window, a hand reaching towards yours. The comfort of familiar prayer. Simple things. Holy things. Perhaps the sacred has always arrived gently, not demanding attention, but patiently waiting to be noticed. Rest there for a moment and know that you do not have to force yourself into peace. You only have to become still enough to recognize that some part of you has carried it all along. Take one final deep breath in and gently, gently let it go. And when you're ready, slowly return, bringing with you a little more softness, a little more awareness, a little more reverence for the ordinary moments that make up your life. Amen. In Namaste. Remember, dear friends, even in the ordinary moments of your day, there is always light waiting in the garden. So until next time, take good care of yourselves and of each other. And I thank you from the depths of my heart for visiting me today. If you enjoyed this podcast, share it with your friends. A deep bow to each of you. And finally, if you have found value here and would like to spend some one-on-one time with me, I offer spiritual companionship, spiritual coaching. Because sometimes it really helps to have a steady presence beside you as you listen for your own inner wisdom and find your way forward. Until next time, my friends. Take good care of you and of each other.