You’re Not a Computer. You’re a Garden.
The Well-Gardened Self: Why Nature May Be the Missing Link in Your Transformation Journey
What if the key to navigating chaos isn’t more control—but more connection to nature? In this article, I explore how the natural world—gardening, birdwatching, even groundhogs—can heal us, grow us, and guide us through personal, organizational, and societal transformation.
In a world obsessed with optimization, it might sound quaint—or even indulgent—to suggest that tending a tomato plant could change your life. But it can. As we navigate a time defined by AI disruption, climate anxiety, loneliness, and disconnection, the natural world offers something most systems do not: slow, honest, reciprocal growth. Nature doesn't rush. It doesn't perform. It transforms. And in doing so, it invites us to do the same.
The insights of psychiatrist Sue Stuart-Smith in The Well-Gardened Mind illuminate how nature—especially gardening—acts as both metaphor and medicine for the psyche. She writes: “When we sow a seed, we plant a narrative of future possibility. It is an action of hope.” And in a moment when hope can feel scarce, that kind of intention matters.
Modern science supports what ancient wisdom already knew. Being in or near green space has been shown to reduce stress hormones, improve sleep, lower inflammation, and increase serotonin. It also reactivates our right-brain mode of awareness—what psychiatrist Iain McGilchrist calls “open attention”—the state from which connection, creativity, and calm emerge.
Carl Jung framed transformation not as becoming something new, but as remembering who we’ve always been. Nature supports that remembering. It shows us that pruning is not loss but wisdom. That decay feeds the future. That nothing blooms all the time.
During the early days of the pandemic, I went nine weeks without stepping outside. I worked twelve-hour days for my Wall Street job, from a high rise apartment down the street from mobile morgues and the unrelenting sound of sirens. I was unraveling. And yet, when I finally left the city and moved somewhere with dirt, sky, and room to breathe—I began to feel again.
Tending to the soil reminded me to tend to myself.
You don’t have to move to the country. You don’t even have to plant a garden. Start by noticing. Where does nature already exist in your life? Where might it want to root deeper?
You are not a machine. You are an ecosystem.
And ecosystems thrive when they’re nurtured.
