NeuroDivine

A reflection on tending the path with focus and care.

The path is meant to be walked. Not hurried, not conquered—just walked. But sometimes, the way becomes tangled. Thorny growth creeps from the hedge, reaching where it was never meant to go. It scratches the skin, catches the sleeve, dares the walker to turn back.

So the shears are taken up. Not in anger, but in clarity. This is not destruction—it is discernment. The cutting back is not punishment, but care: for the hedge, for the path, for the one who walks.

There’s a rhythm to it. Snip. Pause. Notice. Snip again. The mind settles into the pattern, the body into the task. The brambles resist, but they do not win. And in the clearing, space is made—not just for feet, but for breath, for presence, for grace.

Sometimes the soul is like that hedge. Beautiful, rooted, sheltering—but with wildness that needs tending. Not taming, not silencing, but shaping. So that the path remains open. So that others may walk beside us without harm.

And so we cut. Gently. Firmly. With love.