metaphor of planting

My weekdays are all about work, and I am always out of the house early in the morning four times a week, arriving at half past five.  I am exhausted as I am no longer the young person I used to be, more energetic and jubilant.  

My weekends are different.  Though I still work outside the house, I spend less time giving some precious hours to work in the garden.  Even at night, around ten in the evening, I will still be sitting in the garden repotting succulents and cacti regularly.  I have quite a few, and though they are not fuzzy like my other green plants, I wanted to give them healthy soil and space to grow. These days, I am more at peace with myself, what with the quietness around me. 

And during those quiet times, they are the best in finding meaning in my existence. My unending questioning stands still as I till the dirt or tip the pot to aerate the soil. I am in my stillness when I handle the old plant, shake the roots, and place it in its new home.  

But why am I shaken when I fall down to the ground because of insecurities and frustrations? Why am I having hundreds of thoughts when I hear negative things?  Why am I becoming resistant to change? 

I should be that one cactus I repotted recently.  When I chose that plant to be repotted, it was similar to my intention to find change. Tipping the pot to take the rocks out was like putting the weights out from my load.  When I loosen the soil, it's a way to leave my insecurities behind. When I placed the plant in a new pot, it was like being renewed.  

I like gardening. I learn from its toil and labour. I bask in its aftergrowth and gifts.  I am a different me.