“Hearts grow hard and weary. Pain spreads, and joy diminishes. Those who hated you hate you still, but those who loved you, or would have loved you, or wanted to love you but never had the chance, are being scraped hollow by a loss they don’t understand. Come home. Please come home. We are withering without you.”
― Bruce Coville, Dark Whispers
Dear Souls,
I’ve been reflecting quietly for some time… and I feel the pull – the need – to return home.
To this space. To The Compassionate Gardener. My sanctuary. A place where I can simply be – without explanation, without performance, without pressure.
For quite some time, I’ve wandered, ventured out to places like Substack or Medium, not lost, just seeking. Learning. Listening. Planting seeds in many places. Some grew. Some didn’t. And that’s okay.
I’ve poured myself into communities, projects, offerings. Some were received with gratitude.
Others … with silence. But even in the quiet, there were moments of connection – someone finding me when they needed a reminder: That what they were searching for was already within.
All they just needed was space to remember.
If it weren’t for those gentle-hearted ones – the ones who supported me without demanding anything in return – I might’ve lost my footing. But I didn’t because even when it felt like no one was listening,
someone always was.
Now, I return to this garden of mine, where I will open a new page called “My Sanctuary” fairly soon. It’s not to hide, but to nurture. To grow what’s true. To protect what’s sacred. To give from a place that is reciprocal – not draining.
There are fences now, yes. But not to keep people out. They’re there to protect the soil. To keep pests like expectations, projections, performative kindness at bay.
If you’re someone who values honesty, depth, and mutual respect…if you understand that peace is not just a word but a daily practice… then you are welcome here.
Here, I’ll be sharing what feels real. Like the poem below – a reflection on what it means to come home, not to a place, but to yourself.
With love & inspiration,
🌱 The Compassionate Gardener DD
Coming Home – Is Not a Place
It’s been years I’ve been wandering –
Not lost.
Seeking,
Seeing
what it truly means
to create a path –
that leads Home
to myself.
Away from the maddening crowd
that claims to Know
right from wrong.
Finger-pointing:
You are sensitive.
You are, you are, you are –
this… and that.
A ping-pong game
of feelings and projections.
It pains –
to watch.
It pains –
in my heart.
Knowing… most of it isn’t even mine.
But I feel it all.
I carry it all.
Knowing this ache
doesn’t need fixing.
It needs to be felt.
To be breathed into.
Realizing:
Home is not a place,
a space,
a person.
It’s what we create
in ourselves –
to feel at peace.
To be at ease.
To be present
when needed.
I sense so much
confusion.
Do you know
how much energy it takes
to process,
and not to project?
Coming Home means
turning inward.
Yes, it’s lonelier.
But it’s real.
It’s authentic.
It’s necessary.
Thank you,
DD🌻
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