A Secret Garden

A few months back my friend Hilary took me on a little adventure.  She took me to a secret garden in the hills of Los Angeles.  This garden has a name, but she is sworn (and therefore so am I) to not breathe a word of it.  It's a gated garden and because she is a true believer in all that is beautiful and life affirming, she has been granted a key.  A key which she, in turn, is granting to me.  And it makes my heart do flips.  In the words of Wayne and Garth:  I am not worthy.

This isn't a typical garden.  This steep and winding garden has lovingly and painstakingly been crafted out of tiles, stones, sculptures (wire and otherwise) and the things of life.  It has been erected piece by piece in moments of celebration (His Holiness The Dalai Lama has visited) and grief (the passing of loved ones) and horror (9/11, if only the people in charge of the NYC memorial who are fighting amongst themselves could see this garden's simple and loving memorial).  Oh, it has flowers and trees, but that isn't the POINT of the garden.  Its magic is that it's a garden of imagination and art and belief and faith and desire and music and chimes and soft breezes through the canyon.  And its magic is that, above all, it is a garden of thrones.

There is a throne for your every fancy, desire, dream, and anguish.  If you are in need of some self-compassion: here is your throne.  If you are in need of some flowing tears: here is your throne.  If you are in need of some laughter:  here is your throne.  How about some healing?  Do you need some of that: well, sit here in this throne.  And if you just need some silence?  There.  Over there is a throne for you tucked under an arbor.  Some are named quite specifically:

and as you climb perilously higher and higher, others are for you to just sit and imagine what it might be for you that day...

The makers of this garden are in love with music as much as they are in love with stone and reflection (both the light and internal kind).  There are chimes that ring and musical notes that dance.  And near the throne of music is a tribute to jazz.  Names I knew, names I didn't.  But, it rang its own chime in my heart.  Jazz was a great gift to me the past few years and so I sat in the throne of jazz for awhile, rubbing my hands over the smooth, ruby red stones feeling joy and regret.

And as I finally wandered from the jazz throne I took a detour along Route 66, realizing in many ways I'm a real California girl, now. 

But, you can change your perspective here....  You can look through the looking glass and see a man working in a sea of blues:

Or you can see yourself reflected back in some stones of blue:

Finally, Hilary and I met up on some adjoining thrones, choosing carefully which thrones we would finally rest in for a bit from our silent and individual explorations of the garden.  We would finally speak as we looked down over the winding road that embraced this magical garden in its curves.  We enjoyed the soft, cool, breeze that defied the hot summer day and talked about how lovely it would be to be here in the dusk with a bottle of wine.  I told her that I wanted to be in love here.  I wanted to be in love with someone who would love this garden, too.  Hilary looked off for a moment and then said that while she'd brought her husband here once and he'd appreciated it, she didn't care that he didn't want to keep returning to it, as she did.  She said that she loved the garden and that was enough for her.  I've always admired their relationship, so I thought hard about what I wanted and needed or misunderstood perhaps about myself when I was in a relationship.   I considered it deeply as I looked around at the beauty of the garden and the mystery of each turn of the hill of stones we'd climbed up.

Finally, with a sweet, far off chime playing softly with the breeze, I turned to her and said, "I suppose I don't need someone who loves the garden.  What I really want is to be loved by someone who loves me for being the kind of woman who loves this garden."

And with a graceful nod of approval from my friend, we both looked back down into the secret garden filled with colorful, useful, ethereal thrones and felt grateful for the key to it...