Walking through the scent garden was my favourite place to hide.
The sun warmed my skin as I crossed the busy playground, timid and apologetic, until I reached the cool shade of the silvery birch tree that overhung my hiding spot.
The paving slabs beneath my feet were broken here and there. I jumped across each one, holding tight to my lunch box.
I found my favourite place to sit, right near the lavender.
I settled in and slowly ate my packed lunch, the scent of herbs and lavender surrounding me, easing something inside my body in a place that made me want to run away.
A place where my mind couldn’t quite find the words I wanted to say, so I ended up saying nothing.
A place so loud that all I wanted was to come outside and hide in the scent garden.
I took deep breaths and listened.
The birds.
The gentle breeze.
The distant sound of children playing.
And I longed for time to speed up.
A whole afternoon still stretched ahead, and all I wanted was to go home.
The plants and trees around me always had a way of making me feel safe enough to let the feelings rise.
But they came like an erupting volcano, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to control them.
I tried to swallow my tears, but they sat just beneath the surface.
Another afternoon with a knot in my throat.
My eyes heavy with emotion I wouldn’t allow myself to release.
Maybe the garden could teach me how to make time speed up.
The way it always seemed to when I sat there — as if I had only just arrived and finished eating when the bell rang, calling us back inside.
Maybe one day I would learn how.
But for now, I swallowed down as much of my emotions as I could.
I took a deep breath of the scents around me, and tried my best to be normal.
Like everyone else.
But my stomach hurt.
A deep dread sat in the pit of it as I crossed the playground and lined up with the other children.
My teacher stood there, and I flinched inside, bracing myself in case she told me how useless I was again.
I wished I could have stayed hidden.
But I was too scared of getting into trouble for misbehaving —
when it often felt like simply being who I was was enough to cause it.
Too quiet.
Not logical.
Timid.
Emotional.
Maybe one day someone would tell me what was wrong with me.
Or maybe I would find the answer myself.
But for now, I put my head down.
I shrank.
And I tried to blend into the sea of school children.
If only I could become invisible.
Decades later…
After feeling that way for most of my life — learning, growing, and still carrying that quiet sense of not quite fitting into this world —
I walk beneath the gleaming sun.
I smile, allowing the fresh air and the sounds of nature to wash over me.
Gently clearing the overthinking, the self-doubt, the worry.
And in that moment, I feel like nothing…
and everything all at once.
I open my eyes.
And there, just a few metres away in the grass, in broad daylight, is a small hedgehog.
Moving slowly across the ground,
pausing,
rummaging gently,
eating as it goes.
My whole body fills with awe.
With wonder.
With quiet joy.
Tears rise to the surface.
What a beautiful little being.
And suddenly, I am back with that little girl.
Sitting alone in the scent garden.
Eating her lunch.
Wondering what was wrong with her.
Trying to understand why she felt the way she did.
Now I see her clearly.
That little girl was never broken.
She was deeply connected — more than she ever knew.
She was never truly alone.
She carried something within her that many of us are taught to forget.
That we are part of nature.
That we belong to it.
That is why we feel at home there.
Why we soften.
Why we feel so deeply in its presence.
And maybe…
We are not meant to harden ourselves to fit into the world.
Maybe we are meant to remember.
To return.
To reconnect.
Because we, too,
are nothing…
and everything all at once.
The Nature Within 