Blooming Spirit

by Sara Gasparini

As I went for a walk through nature last winter, I could see spring coming out of the silent trees, the bushes, and even the ground. Everything was becoming alive and vibrant again; everything was ready to flourish and scream its vitality in colors. It happened last spring, and I’m quite certain it will happen this year, too: just as I could see nature around me starting to bloom again, I could feel my soul blooming too.

Image credit: Frank Holleman on Unsplash

After two years of therapy, there my spirit was once again: its colors, its vibrations, its vitality. Everything I felt inside seemed to be reflected in the world outside, the world I was immersed in at that moment. I simply looked at nature, and I could see myself. Never had I felt more alive than in that moment—my own winter was coming to an end.

Therapy has this kind of impact on our souls. The ground may be harsh and arid, yet as long as someone takes care of it, you can be sure that everything will bloom once again—you most certainly will bloom once again. It’s a statement I could not make myself believe two years ago, when I decided to pursue the path of therapy. However, after these two years, I can assure you that it’s true.

There is surely nothing more suffocating than feeling as if your spirit has something rotten inside. You need to grasp some air from time to time, you need some miraculous medicine that can give you a break from feeling trapped in your own head. You feel the need to run away as fast as you can, yet you’re here, breathing heavily, seeing everything blurry around you, feeling like you can’t breathe anymore.

Nothing is truly rotten inside you, however. Your soul only needs to be watered, gently and softly. The garden of your soul is only full of invasive plants—those suffocating invasive plants that won’t let your once rich, colorful garden breathe.

Starting my therapy path has been much like discovering the secret garden of my soul: everything was perfectly still and untouched, yet nothing could really bloom out of the green covering made by the invasive plants. I started making my way through what had been making me feel rotten inside, making sure I ripped out those intrusive plants from the ground of my garden, one by one, slowly. Each plant that I ripped out from the ground immediately let out some air and sunlight come in to cure my garden.

When the process of ripping out those plants was finally finished, it was time for watering. I grabbed my watering can, as I rolled up my sleeves in my therapist’s studio, and started nourishing my garden. Watering made one small flower grow after another.

Sunlight, air, and water—that’s what made my garden bloom again. And eventually, when I felt that my garden was fully bloomed and colorful like never before, it was much easier to see it all in the world outside.

I went for a walk surrounded by nature, and I saw flowers, trees, leaves, plants, bees, ants, and butterflies because winter was coming to an end, and spring was ready to kick it off.

To me, my winter had been the two-year therapy path I was still going through. And as I walked through spring that first week of March last year, I knew my spring had finally come inside me and my garden as well.

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Sara Gasparini

Sara Gasparini is currently pursuing a master's degree in Translation and Interpreting at Ca' Foscari University of Venice. She is passionate about literature, languages, and the art of storytelling. In addition to writing, she enjoys reading contemporary and classic works and discovering new cultures through travel.