This is an excerpt from my next book Paradise in Plain Sight, coming next spring from New World Publishing.
The blue sky and bright day,
No more searching around!
—Mumon’s Verse, Gateless Gate, Case 30
And then I saw the garden.
I’m going to slow down and choose my words carefully. Not because the garden is hard to describe, but because I want you to see.
Sometimes people come to the garden and say, “It’s so much smaller than I thought.” Or “It’s so much bigger than I thought.” Or “It’s not at all what I thought.” They have created a picture in their minds of what the garden would look like, or what it should look like, and when they see the real thing they aren’t seeing it at all, but comparing it to the picture in their minds. We cherish the pictures in our minds. We prize our fantasies or they wouldn’t be our fantasies, perfected with every wish. Nearly everything we cherish is just a picture: our ambitions and ideals, size 4 or 6 or 8; our notions of what happy families and their homes should look like (not this); the past, the future; our vision of love, lovers, and life ever after. The picture might even be a nightmare—frightening and forlorn—but we cherish it just the same.
Sometimes people come to the garden and say, “I had no idea.” Then they don’t say anything else, because they are actually seeing the garden. They are actually seeing what is right in front of them, and experiencing it. Then nothing needs to be said.
I had no idea what to expect when my husband called me to the kitchen. By this time we’d entered the house, and because it was empty, we did not take offense at what we saw. Empty rooms are full of possibilities. Possibility is full of love.
“You should see this,” he said.
I stepped into the kitchen where he stood at a plate glass window, looking out.
And then I saw the garden.
I saw a multitude of greens, iridescent greens. The glint of rocks and sunbleached stones. Red bark and burnished branches. The sheen on still water. The light on a hill. A foreground, a background: the seamless whole of three dimensions. Colors with no names because I wasn’t naming them. Beauty beyond measure because I wasn’t measuring it. A view unspoiled because I wasn’t judging it. The shine of the sky making everything visible, everything vivid, even the shadows, with the radiance of being alive.
This was not a picture of a garden. This was not a picture that I could ever conjure from memory or make-believe. This was true life, so unexpected it made me cry.
Now do you see? When you see your life, you bring it to life. When you don’t see your life, it is lifeless.
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Every now and then someone will write to me and say, “It feels like you are reading my mind. It’s so comforting to know that I’m not alone. You have a way of writing exactly what I need to hear at the moment I need to hear it.”
The other morning I opened an email from a reader. I asked her if I could respond via the blog so other people could benefit. All our problems are the same; what is different is whether or not we face them in an openhearted way. When we can do that, problems resolve themselves.
Let it be well understood: once desire for the truth arises, the desire for fame and riches will disappear in a moment. 
You are the sky. Everything else—it’s just the weather. Pema Chodron
You’ll just have to get used to this, Mom, because every teenage girl is like this.
Next time you want to grow a plant, set it in front of a screensaver of the sun and see what happens.
