The Parable of the Three Gardens
n a vast and timeless land, there were three gardens, each enclosed by its own wall. The first garden belonged to the children, the second to the adolescents, and the third to the elders. Each garden was a world unto itself, and its inhabitants rarely ventured beyond their walls.
The Garden of Children was a place of wonder. The flowers sang songs, the trees whispered secrets, and the sky above was a canvas of endless colors. The children here lived in blissful dependence, trusting that the garden would provide all they needed. They knew of a great Gardener, whom they believed tended to their needs, unseen yet ever-present. The children played and rested, confident that the Gardener watched over them, guiding their every step.
As the children grew, they were led to a gate at the far end of the garden. Beyond the gate was the Garden of Adolescents. Here, the land was more rugged, the plants wilder, and the sky often clouded with storms. In this garden, the inhabitants no longer felt the immediate presence of the Gardener. Instead, they believed they were on their own, tasked with taming the wilds and proving their worth. The adolescents saw the world as a battleground, where forces of good and evil clashed, and where survival depended on cunning and strength.
In this garden, each youth fashioned their own tools and weapons, convinced that they must fight to secure their place. The Gardener, they thought, had left them to their own devices, testing their resolve and faith. Some doubted the Gardener’s existence, while others rebelled against what they saw as abandonment. Here, the idea of a separate self took root, and with it, the struggle to define and defend that self.
One day, the adolescents found a gate, hidden among the thorns and brambles. They hesitated, for the gate led to the unknown. Some were too absorbed in their battles to notice it, while others feared what lay beyond. But a few, weary of the endless struggle, dared to open the gate.
Beyond the gate was the Garden of Elders. This garden was vast, with no walls in sight. The landscape was serene, the air filled with a quiet stillness. Here, the elders lived in harmony, not just with the garden but with all that existed. They no longer sought to tame the wilds, for they had come to understand that the garden and the Gardener were one and the same. The flowers and trees, the storms and sunlight—all were expressions of a single, indivisible reality.
In this garden, the elders had no need for tools or weapons. They saw through the illusion of separateness and understood that the self they once defended was but a shadow cast by the light of the Gardener. They realized that the Gardener was not apart from them but within and around them, in every leaf, every drop of rain, and every breath they took.
The elders knew that the true path was not one of struggle but of surrender. By letting go of the self they had fought so hard to build, they found peace beyond understanding. The world was no longer a problem to solve but a mystery to embrace, where every moment was a dance of the infinite and the finite, the seen and the unseen.
The parable of the three gardens teaches us that true maturity comes not from conquering the world but from understanding it in its entirety. The journey from the Garden of Children, through the trials of the Garden of Adolescents, and finally to the boundless Garden of Elders mirrors the path of human life—from innocence to struggle, and finally to the wisdom that transcends both. In this final garden, the walls of separation fall away, revealing the unity of all things in the light of Truth.
Beezone
Adapted from The Aletheon, Adi Da Samraj, Moving Beyond Childish and Adolescent Approaches to Life and Truth, pp. 90-93