Not Digging for Gold


Image Creative Commons – D Sharon Pruitt


You know – that shiny yellow stuff  in which so much value is invested?

I have dug over my whole courtyard and never once found a trace of the precious metal. But a seam of gold runs through my garden nevertheless.

If we consider gold as a metaphor for something elemental, pure, highly valued, worth having, then my experience as a gardener definitely qualifies.

You may have travelled with me on my gardening journey since I began this blog. Reading stories of my tiny courtyard, you’d have witnessed the challenges, disappointments, the unexpected therapy, the epiphanies had; and the lessons I’ve learned as a result. Neither could you have missed the absolute joy and beauty I’ve found there.

All gold.

As important to me, is evidence that you heard me. You read between the lines, really understood what I was trying to say. You’ve felt my anguish, supported and encouraged me. You related to the challenges I faced and you said so. Even more, you shared personal stories, feelings, and concerns with me.

So aside from all the above-mentioned treasures my garden has unearthed, this last nugget is pure gold. Better still I didn’t have to dig for it. I just bared my soul and it came to me.

Pure gold!

So now I’m re-committing to paying back. Something precious is made even more so when it’s shared.

For all those people out there in the blog-o-sphere who are making the courageous leap to reach out, to bare their souls, I implore you to be generous with your feedback. I know time constrains us all and it’s not possible to comment on everyone’s post. But visit and comment when you can. Especially to the newbies. I know the worth of this feedback and it’s greater than gold.


All that is gold does not glitter, not all those who wander are lost;

The old that is strong does not wither, deep roots are not reached by the frost.

J. R. R. Tolkien




50 responses to “Not Digging for Gold

  1. Your quote from JRR Tolkien says a wealth of meaning. The comments and feedback in the blogosphere are a great wealth in themselves. And the content of blogs opens up so much of the world to us too. I enjoy other people’s gardens and I also greatly enjoy your blogs.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Well said, Robyn. It’s lovely when someone takes the time to comment. I haven’t published many blogs, but have already ‘met’ some generous and like-minded folk and enjoyed their gardens.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Yes. I think so too – whether it’s on a walk, in our minds, or in our research. Taking a road less travelled can reveal all kinds of wonders. Thanks for visiting April. I love your very informative posts.

      Liked by 1 person

  3. How true Robyn. I have learned so much from reading blogs on various subjects that I wouldn’t have thought about thus enriching my life. I may be missing for a month as I will be away travelling by bicycle

    Liked by 1 person

    • Brenda, I’m amazed you have the time to blog! I wonder if while cycling your formidable distances, you compose posts in your head. Do enjoy the next adventure. I’ll look forward to you writing about it when you return.


    • Dear Robyn, hello! Thank you for going through the whole tedious process required of non WordPress subscribers, to make a comment. I do appreciate it. It’s really gratifying to have such positive feedback. Especially on a post about the worth of feedback! I do hope all is well with you. x


  4. I often find the comments are the best part of blogging, like having conversations with groups of friends. I always try to comment on the blogs I follow which is why I restrict myself to the number I do follow, but I always appreciate a comment on my own blog and try to reply as much as possible (some do get through and some don’t really need a response.)

    Liked by 1 person

  5. How beautifully you put it. The shared community of bloggers exchanging ideas about everything under the sun really does feel like discovering the proverbial pot of gold. I’m always grateful to find fellow spirits who are willing to reach out and connect.

    Liked by 2 people

  6. Hm, finger slipped, obviously! Apologies. I mean I like the way you recommend commenting on newbies’ posts because it is a kind gesture. Many people are as shy about commenting as they are about blogging, and this might help.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Love this metaphor. So true this process is precious, I find. Not only in mining my own feelings and experiences through what I write but also in the gems I find in other’s posts and in their comments to me. Thank you for the reminder to go beyond “liking” to engage.

    Liked by 1 person

  8. What a mysterious thing, to listen to someone’s musings, a person you will never meet but can talk to this way, through the  . . . what? . . .  electronic pulses shot into space and back again? What a wonder!

    It’s 2:54 a.m., a beautiful summer night, moon making shadows in our yard, the cat pressing his nose against the screen door, and I can tap away with one finger and imagine persons nearby or across the seas thinking about what I’m thinking, or read their thoughts about whatever is important at the time. Or I can put this small machine to sleep, though not myself, and sit with the cat, me listening through the dark and maybe praying for light, him not saying anything because the night itself speaks.  I shall close my tablet soon,but wanted to tell you that your post about listening to the trees reminded me that there is inspiration everywhere. I’m smiling too, the way the cat seems to smile as if he knows the secret, or the wonder rather, that is just beyond both our screens. I really liked that post . Im glad to be able to tell you that, Robyn. I note that it late afternoon or early evening in Australia, but whether that is today, yesterday, or tomorrow doesn’t matter because it is all right now for those who care to talk, or listen, and that is another mystery. Awesome, as some would say, probablywithout realizing the extent of awe. But who does, really. Still,we try.

    Keep musing.

    Liked by 2 people

    • Albert, your reply could have been a poem. In fact I think it should be.

      I could just picture you and your cat in that magical moonlit scene. It’s the kind of ‘being’ that is inducive to musings and wide ranging thoughts. They are up there in the ether like vapor trails, interconnecting with others of their kind.

      Perhaps one day, we won’t need computers and the internet. Perhaps one day, Jung’s collective unconscious will be recognised and accepted.
      It was indeed early evening when I read your post. I too, marveled at the ambivalent ‘present’. Time is a human construct. As for ‘awe’, I feel its over-use in popular vernacular diminishes its true nature. But as you say, does anyone really know its extent? Maybe that is as it should be – the true boundless nature of it?

      Liked by 1 person

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