When you, a seeker of gardens, come across a desert, you can walk away and pledge never to return. When you, a lover of flowers, can't find any in the sand, you can walk away and seek greener lands. But when the desert is yours, a primal land, and you love flowers and seek gardens, then even as if you find greener places and even as your eyes feast on pretty flowers, the memory of the desert will haunt you and dry you out. The only way for you, born of the desert, seeker of flowers and gardens, is to water that desert for as long as it takes to green. And if it so happens that only one shoot sprouts, then the only way for you is to make yourself so expansive, so receptive, so gracious, that even that little shoot gives you the shade of a huge tree.
And you can rest, finally. Or not.