We had guests at the Inn recently, and one of them came with a rather unusual request.
They wanted to help me in the garden.
Now, before anyone gets the wrong idea, I don't ordinarily put guests to work around here. You're much more likely to be offered something from the Kitchen than a pair of gardening gloves.
But this guest had been going through a difficult time, and spending a little time outdoors, tending plants and getting their hands in the soil, was something they genuinely wanted to do.
I understood that. Sometimes a garden offers exactly the kind of company we need.
And as it happened, there was plenty to keep us occupied.
A Weekend in the Garden
The garden was ready for some attention as we moved further into autumn.
We harvested lemongrass, cucumbers, basil, and oregano. I always enjoy this part of gardening, especially when I think about how many ways those plants will find their way into the Kitchen. Some will become part of a meal, some may be dried for later use, and others will find their way into my ongoing studies of aromatic plants.
We pulled weeds, cleared out pots that had finished their summer work, and began preparing them for next year's planting.
The citrus and pomegranate trees received fertilizer, and I brought home a few new trees as well. Apparently, I haven't yet reached the point where I can visit a nursery without finding something that needs to come home with me.
And of course, there had to be flowers.
I bought mums, pansies, and violas to brighten the areas around the Inn that were beginning to look a little tired. I love how those flowers bring fresh color just as the summer garden starts to settle down.
There is something satisfying about preparing a garden for another season. You're not simply cleaning up what has finished growing. You're making decisions about what to keep, what to nourish, and what you hope to see again.
Our guest seemed to enjoy every bit of it.
We talked while we worked, but there were also long stretches when nobody needed to say very much.
Sometimes we were busy deciding where a plant should go. Other times, we were simply pulling weeds or gathering herbs.
And I noticed something as the weekend went along.
Our guests seemed to be relaxing.
The worries they had arrived with weren't necessarily solved, but they seemed a little less burdened by them.
I think that's one of the gifts of gardening. It gives your mind somewhere else to go for a while. There's something right in front of you that needs your attention, and for a little while, that is all that matters.
By the time our guests left, they seemed lighter than when they arrived.
That made me happy.
But after the goodbyes, when the Inn had grown quiet again, I realized there was one more thing I needed attention..
The Inn itself.
When the House Needs a Little Attention Too
I've become very attentive to the atmosphere of a home.
Sometimes I can walk into a room and immediately notice that something feels different. It may be after a difficult conversation, a stressful week, an illness, or even a house full of company.
Not every change in how a room feels needs a spiritual explanation. Our surroundings, the people we've been with, the things we've heard, and even our own state of mind can affect how comfortable we feel in a space.
But I also believe there is an energetic side to caring for a home.
One of our guests had arrived carrying some difficult emotions, and although I was glad the weekend seemed to help, I felt it was time to reset the atmosphere of the Inn.
That doesn't mean the guest wasn't welcome.
Quite the opposite.
I want people to be able to arrive here just as they are, even when life isn't going particularly well. They shouldn't have to pretend everything is wonderful to enjoy a little hospitality.
But once everyone has gone home, I also want the Inn to return to the peaceful, welcoming atmosphere I've worked to create.
So I began my usual reset.
How I Clear and Refresh the Inn
I always begin with ordinary cleaning.
I put things back where they belong, wipe down surfaces, clear away anything that accumulated during the visit, and open the windows when the weather allows.
Fresh air and a clean room make a difference all by themselves.
Then I bring out my essential oils.
Depending on what I feel the room needs, I might diffuse lemon, sweet orange, or lavender.
I especially enjoy lemon and sweet orange when I want a room to feel fresh and bright. Their aromas are cheerful to me, and I often choose them when I'm ready to begin again.
Lavender is something I reach for when I want a calmer atmosphere, particularly toward the end of the day.
This is one of the reasons I've become so interested in studying aromatherapy.
Aromatic plants have a remarkable way of becoming part of our experiences and memories. An aroma can remind us of someone we love, make a familiar room feel comforting, or help us create a particular atmosphere.
I don't think every room needs to smell like something, and I certainly don't believe that using more essential oil makes a practice more effective.
I choose my oils thoughtfully, use them in appropriate amounts, and consider who else may be sharing the space.
For me, aromatherapy is one way of tending the sensory experience of the Inn.
But sometimes I want to do something more.
That's when I may bring out the incense.
Why I Sometimes Use Smoke and Sound
There is a spiritual reason I occasionally use incense when clearing a room.
For centuries, people in different cultures and spiritual traditions have used aromatic smoke to cleanse, bless, and prepare spaces.
Smoke has often symbolized purification and release. As it rises and disperses, it can represent letting go of what is no longer wanted or needed.
Sound has also played a role in spiritual clearing traditions. Bells, chanting, drums, and other instruments have been used to mark transitions, bless spaces, and create an atmosphere for spiritual practice.
I find those traditions meaningful.
I can't tell you exactly how spiritual energy works, and I don't pretend to have all the answers. Science hasn't established that smoke or sound removes negative spiritual energy, although we do know that aroma and sound can influence how we experience our surroundings.
For me, the spiritual practice is personal.
When I use incense, I do so with a particular intention. I want any energies that don't belong in the Inn to be removed, leaving the space peaceful and welcoming again.
Sometimes I use sound as part of that practice too.
And sometimes I don't use either.
Smoke isn't necessary every time I reset a room, and because it affects indoor air quality, I use it sparingly, with ventilation and consideration for anyone who may be sensitive to it.
What remains consistent is the intention behind what I'm doing.
Setting an Intention for the Home
As I move through the rooms, I take a moment to become clear about my intention for the space.
I acknowledge the people who have visited, the conversations we've shared, and the experiences that have taken place here.
Then I set my intention that any energies that don't belong in the Inn are removed.
I might say something like:
Any energies that do not belong in this home are now released. May this space return to peace, warmth, comfort, and love. May everyone who enters feel welcomed, and may this home remain a place of rest and renewal.
There isn't a special set of words that must be spoken.
It's simply how I express my intention for the space.
I don't think of it as prayer. It's a deliberate part of my spiritual practice, a way of giving my attention to the atmosphere I'm creating.
And I find it meaningful to do this after guests leave, particularly when the visit has involved a lot of emotion.
It's my way of welcoming the Inn back to its usual rhythm.
The Garden Had Been Teaching Me Something All Along
Later that evening, I found myself thinking about everything we'd accomplished in the garden.
We had harvested what was ready.
We removed weeds that were competing with the plants we wanted to grow.
We cleared out pots that had finished their season.
We nourished the citrus and pomegranate trees.
And we brought in mums, pansies, and violas to fill the garden with fresh color.
It occurred to me that I had spent the rest of the day doing something very similar inside.
I had cleaned what needed cleaning, released what I no longer wanted to hold, refreshed the atmosphere, and given my attention to what I wanted to welcome.
And perhaps that is something worth thinking about in our own lives too.
We are usually very good at recognizing when a garden needs tending.
We can see the weeds. We notice when the soil is tired. We know when a plant needs water or when something has finished its season.
But we don't always give ourselves or our homes that same attention.
We move from one busy week into another. We host company, care for family, listen to people we love, and carry on with everything that needs doing.
Sometimes we don't notice how much we've been holding until the house is quiet again.
And maybe that is when we need to do a little tending of our own.
A Fresh Start for Your Own Home
The next time you have company, finish a stressful week, or simply notice that your home doesn't feel quite as comfortable as usual, try giving it a little reset.
It doesn't have to be elaborate.
Begin with the things you can see. Open the windows, straighten the rooms, clear away clutter, and clean the surfaces.
Then think about what you'd like the space to feel like.
Would a fresh botanical aroma be welcome? Perhaps a little lemon or sweet orange in a diffuser?
Would you prefer something quieter, like lavender?
Or perhaps no aroma at all, just fresh air and a little music.
If spiritual clearing is part of your own beliefs, you might also choose to work with an appropriate traditional practice, such as incense or sound, while setting an intention for your home.
You don't have to practice exactly as I do.
What I hope you'll take from this is the importance of noticing when your home, and perhaps you, could use a little extra care.
Ask yourself what needs to be cleared away, what needs nourishment, and what you would like to welcome into the space next.
Those are useful questions whether you're standing in a garden, a kitchen, or the middle of your own living room.
By the time I finished tending the Inn, the rooms were fresh, everything was back in its place, and the house felt comfortable again.
Outside, the mums, pansies, and violas were settling into their new homes. The citrus and pomegranate trees had been fed, and our freshly harvested herbs were waiting in the Kitchen.
Our guests had enjoyed their visit and gone home a little lighter.
The garden was ready for its next season.
And the Inn was ready to welcome whoever might come through the door next.
I would call that a weekend well spent.
Warmly,
Mika
Mikasa of the Inn
P.S.
Lady Staywell had apparently been following our weekend activities with some interest.
“Even the most welcoming home deserves a little tending once the company has gone.”