Centering Mind, Body, and Soul in the Garden

“For from their beginning, I see them as mountain peaks, and I behold them as hills; it is a nation that will dwell alone, and will not be reckoned among the nations.” — Parshat Balak, Bamidbar 23:9

These are the words that we read in synagogue this past Shabbat. This story hearkens back to a time when the Jews were threatened while wandering through the desert and resonates to this day, carrying a weight of biblical proportions. In the parsha, King Balak of Moab wanted to destroy the Jewish nation and asked the prophet Bilaam to curse Israel. 

Instead, Bilaam praised Israel for being a nation that can stand the test of time, much like mountains. He prophesied that this nation was isolated and distinct from other countries. And here we are, thousands of years later; darkness is in the world and Israel is again dwelling alone, surrounded by enemies.

These days, it is so easy to doom-scroll right into an abyss of stress and despair—and mainstream media is designed just for that reason. From endless geopolitical friction to nuclear chaos, the news stokes fear and traffics destruction. In fact, no one knows what truly goes on behind closed doors during countless ceasefire negotiations, or in war rooms, or in government board rooms. Most reporting is later retracted, called fake news, or is fiercely disputed by both sides. 

It can be deeply frustrating to think that the future of our world (and especially Israel’s borders) is being formulated on one side by people who have no Middle East experience and are driven by money and power, and on the other side, by forces that murder, lie, and want to see Israel’s complete destruction. 

When nothing makes sense anymore, I have solace in studying the Torah’s wise words and knowing that a higher plan is being devised by Hashem. And if the news cycle spins me into a vortex of dread, I can always step outside to connect with Hashem’s wonders and healing. 

As the world darkens, I search for light—and I find it right here in my garden. I have come to realize that being in the garden isn’t a retreat from reality; it is a profound mind-body healing and a spiritual connection that Hashem wisely built directly into the mechanics of the natural world. Our bodies store the nervous tension of the headlines, but working the land burns off that excess adrenaline, prompting the brain to reward us with a steady release of dopamine and endorphins.

At the start of each morning, I see the sun rise over the Golan and watch its rays bathe the towering cacti in gold. As that morning light hits my skin, I feel fortified and healed. That feeling isn’t an illusion. This early morning encounter initiates a biological cascade within us, triggering the synthesis of Vitamin D and releasing nitric oxide into the bloodstream, physically lowering blood pressure and boosting immunity. 

Absorbing these early rays tells the brain to release a healthy, natural peak of wake-me-up cortisol while stopping the production of melatonin. It anchors our internal clocks and improves sleep at night. It is a powerful, physical defense against chronic anxiety, gifted to us at the dawn of every single day.

I walk out further into the garden under a magenta sky as barn swallows swoop for food to bring to their hungry, chirping babies. Our porch has become an apartment complex of barn swallow nests—and a constant temptation for our mesmerized cat. A frog croaks in the pond, and as I venture closer, I watch him plop into the water from a water hyacinth leaf.

I find amazement in every step; the hollyhocks soar higher than many of the olive trees, flags of light pink, purple, and red bouncing in the wind; while sunflowers take center stage, their bold, bright yellow heads beaming a smile.

While the macro-world feels fractured, my eyes naturally seek out the perfection of this micro-world. Gazing at the interlocking spirals in the face of the sunflowers, or at the perfect geometry of the succulents, serves as a physical reset. Our visual systems are hardwired to find peace in these repeating, natural patterns known as fractals.

Merely looking at them instantly drops our internal cortisol levels, quietening our nervous system when the outside world is spinning. It is as if Hashem gave me a visual sedative, sprinkling it onto the leaves and patterning it in the tree branches, a gentle  invitation to quiet my mind.

In June, French lavender is at its finest, its delicate blooms quivering in the breeze. Nearby, rose-scented geraniums sweeten the air, a scent so uplifting, it activates immediate joy. Inhaling these volatile botanical aromas isn’t just a pleasant distraction. The scent molecules travel straight to the emotional center of the brain, acting as an immediate chemical circuit-breaker that down-regulates our fight-or-flight response.

But I don’t just observe as I can’t stand still for too long. I get to work weeding, harvesting, pruning, and sweating. I bend, squat, pull, and stretch. I kneel down and pull away the soil to plant a sweet potato slip. By touching the soil with bare hands, I am triggering serotonin via a bacteria called mycobactrium vaccae. It lives in healthy soil and triggers a burst of serotonin, absorbing happiness. 

Because our bare palms are dense with nerve endings and are highly conductive, the moment they touch the damp earth, a physical exchange occurs. We ground ourselves, absorbing the earth’s natural electrical energy to soothe internal inflammation and reset our frazzled stress response.

This kind of whole-body exercise is also a powerful somatic medicine. By physically working the land, I am burning off adrenaline and nervous tension. By late morning, I feel fulfilled and very tired. I am also grounded, literally and spiritually, anchored against turbulence. 

Bilaam declared in the parsha, “How goodly are your tents, O Jacob.” I am imbued with this goodly feeling by living in Israel, working the land, and observing its abundance. We are once again in a time of national crisis, but when I focus on the cycle of renewal right in front of me, gratitude stops being an abstract idea and becomes a tangible lifeline. 

We must not to fear the modern day Balaks who seek to destroy us, nor the social media Bilaams who are sent to curse us. Instead, we must stay strong and rooted. For there is a special light here in Israel and many incredible miracles—just come for a walk in my garden to feel it.