I have a garden which I love. Once in a while it looks perfect. All the watering, feeding, prunning and love add up to moment of beauty.
Then I think... if only I could keep it this way, preserve this moment forever. But my garden is alive. Time and seasons bring changes. Living things must change.
A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory.
This writng is dedicated to a thought, not new but durable... I am living thing which must change. If I can accept the changes, I can accept myself, and when I accept myself, I can enjoy the changes and the beauty in the garden of my life.
