Plants can Heal

By Lucia Morgan

When life becomes too much, there’s nothing like a garden to offer refuge, tranquillity and comfort. Cares and tension slip away. We slow down, relax and re-establish our connection with the natural world. We can begin again.

In ancient times, the Persians created walled gardens to keep out the chaos of everyday life. People have always turned to nature for restoration and healing, for good reason. Plants affect us on a multitude of levels.

Studies show that when we look at natural vegetation, blood pressure drops, the skin warms, muscles relax and we start to recover from stress. Physical healing is promoted.

Our mental health benefits, too: When psychiatric patients see flowering plants at mealtimes, their morale improves, they eat better, they talk to each other more and they stay at the table longer.

If just looking at plants does all this, think what growing them can do.

Doctors at the Meninger Clinic in Kansas did, in the early 1900s. They saw that gardening widened their patients’ world, increased their enjoyment, improved their motor skills, promoted socialization and gave them a huge measure of self-esteem.

The definition of horticultural therapy is "the process which uses plants, horticultural activities and the natural world to promote awareness and well-being by improving the body, mind and spirit. Horticultural therapy is universal, adaptable and validated by research."

Today, many long-term care facilities use gardening to help clients become re-involved with life. Even those who have been withdrawn and uncommunicative for years respond when a therapist presents them with a fragrant plant or flower.

Geraniums are particular favourites. Carola Elkuizen, a horticultural therapist at St. Joseph’s Home and Hospital in Guelph, Ontario, says, "Almost everyone has had a geranium in their life at some point or another. They seem particularly powerful in helping people reminisce." As individuals who are isolated share memories and past experiences, they begin to interact and reach out to the world again.

In her book The Healing Garden, Marjorie Harris says: "We shouldn’t be surprised at the intimate link between us and growing things. Our bodies offer a parallel to the biological structure of plants." Both respond to warmth and cold, are dependent on water and are affected by the pull of the moon. She believes gardening is profoundly linked to nurturing, and brings out our most human qualities.

Elvin McDonald, renowned gardening authority, says, "Involvement with plants teaches responsibility, consideration for something living, the rewards of being patient... and generally helps establish a feeling for how the world works."

McDonald tells of how he used plants to cope with a difficult divorce and an unwanted move. While watering, grooming and re-potting, he found that everyday stress and anxieties fell away. Digging, weeding and smashing pots for drainage material gave him ways to channel his anger productively. Indoor gardening offered involvement and pleasure, and took him beyond himself. As the plants grew, they added grace and beauty to his barren apartment, and made him feel at home in the world once again.

McDonald believes that when we think of something as "therapy" we tend to expect it to do magic. "There are no instant cures for life’s ups and downs, but, rather, ’supportive holds’ that help us put daily difficulties and annoyances into proper perspective. An involvement with plants can be such a supportive hold."

I remember the day that gardening rescued me from despair, and gave me that "supportive hold."

It had been bitterly cold for far too long. I had barely managed to bundle my two young kids into their dozen pieces of clothing when the school bus honked loudly. Dishes had piled up, laundry needed doing and there was a two-foot snowdrift to be shovelled before I could coax my cranky car to the grocery store a few miles away. I felt isolated, overwhelmed and trapped.

Tearfully, I threw on my jacket and trudged to the mailbox, hoping to escape my claustrophobic feelings. As I stuffed the junk mail and bills into my pockets, something unfamiliar peeked out. A seed catalogue. Another sales scam? I guessed it was a "country thing"; I’d never received one in the city.

Back at home, I made tea, turned on the radio and browsed through the catalogue. What beautiful pictures, lush descriptions and enticing promises of fragrant flowers, vibrant vegetables and stately trees. Suddenly I was rushed into a world of colour, richness, sensory stimulation and daydreaming. I was hooked. Even though my only gardening success had been with a couple of hardy house plants that thrived on neglect, a whole new world opened for me with the arrival of that one seed catalogue. Suddenly life held hope.

Now, years later, I make sure that several catalogues arrive throughout the year. Many reappear annually, like reliable old friends. They’ve seen me through rural life, a divorce, a difficult move to the city and a long illness. They first helped me with my large family vegetable plot, then later with my windowsill, balcony and pocket-yard endeavours.

Each time I relocated and began to despair of my new situation, these wonderful little information-packed sources of inspiration opened my eyes to new possibilities. Even when I was very ill and barely mobile, the allure of growth engaged and enchanted me, and had me anticipating better days ahead.

When you are alone or in crisis, plants provide something living to turn to. They offer a change in focus and hold the possibility of rebirth. Watch a seed sprout under your care; your sense of wonder will return. Grow root cuttings or divide a favourite plant; you are bringing a new generation to life. If you give new plants to others, you are creating links and promoting prosperity, like the pioneers before us.

And there’s another benefit from growing plants: It challenges us to learn new skills and broadens our capacity to nurture.

Tending plants reinforces our belief in the future, and helps us understand our link to the natural world. After suffering a disappointment or loss, gardening puts the cycle of life and death in its proper perspective.

All this from a few seeds, a little dirt and some tender, loving care.

(Lucia Morgan is a freelance writer living in Toronto, Ontario.)