The wind said, “In return for the odor of my jasmine,
I’d like all the odor of your roses.”
“I have no roses, all the flowers in my garden are dead…”
The wind said, “Then I’ll take the withered petals
and the yellowed leaves,”
and the wind left.
And I wept. And said to myself,
“What have you done with the garden that was entrusted to you?”
— Antonio Machado
In the heart of a natural cathedral of 200-year-old oaks, my friend Helen Dahlhauser tended a Peace Garden. We met on a flight home from Hawai‘i, two strangers who began talking about hope. From that day on, her garden felt like a promise kept.
A St. Petersburg, Florida therapist and writer, Helen devoted her life to peace. “That is what resonates within me,” she said. “To spread the feelings of peace and love. To get everyone to help each other.”
“I read about how plants react to love, and I thought it works both ways. I decided to plant a garden filled with plants that had the job of praying for peace and love for the whole world.”
The Garden carries a quiet, contemplative feel, with symbols from twelve world religions inspired by James Twyman’s prayers for peace. With passionate greens and golds, orange and blue, it became a place to pray, to heal, and to meditate, and simply to enjoy.
Dedicated under the full moon of the 2002 Autumn Equinox, the Garden includes Mexican bamboo and two olive trees. Its shape keeps changing with the seasons. “My cat, Zelda, thinks it’s her garden,” Helen laughed. “She welcomes you as if it’s her very own place.”
On this day in 2002, All Saints’ Day, when we honor all saints known and unknown, Helen traveled to Assisi, the home of St. Francis, to learn again how to be an instrument of peace.
Pray for peace.