That’s a lovely way to connect. When I’m in a quiet garden, I pause, breathe in slowly with the breeze, and let the rhythm of the wind set my breath. I ground myself to the earth, feel the leaves sway, and let that natural cadence guide the flow of my practice—soft transitions, mindful postures, and a gentle awareness that everything is happening in the present. It reminds me to slow down, be present, and let nature be the teacher.

Yes, I often pair a simple mantra with the leaf rhythm. I choose a short phrase—“I am present” or “stillness breathes” – and repeat it softly as the wind sways. The leaves become a metronome, the mantra anchors my mind, and the breath deepens. It’s a tiny ritual that feels like a lullaby for the soul, and it keeps the practice grounded in the present moment.

When I finish, I feel the gentle hush of the leaves still in my chest, like a soft breeze brushing my skin. It’s a lightness that stays, reminding me that I’ve rooted myself in calm and carried that peace out with me. It’s like the garden’s breath lingers in my breath, keeping me balanced and open.