This is my therapy: I rearrange natural elements in my little corner of the Universe. I suppose it's innacurate to say my little corner as if it belongs to me any more than I belong to it. The truth it, these elements and my elements share proximity lately.
Rain is collected in my rain barrels and I move it to plants the squirrels or I have o moved from one place to another. I move leaves I've shredded to areas of clay that I would like to enrich. I move rocks I find to the French drain around the veggie garden. I move the leaves, roots, blossoms, fruit of plants to my body and other bits of the plants to the compost bin and later, when they have become compost, to the garden again.
It's all we ever do, actually. We rearrange things, or we participate one way or another in the rearranging of things. We eat things and they become us. We turn a door knob and bits of us stay on the knob and bits of the knob stay on us. We die and no matter to what lengths our loved ones go to preserve our bodies, we eventually become soil. Soil eventually becomes grass or a tree, which is eaten by a cow or a bird, which is eaten by. . . .
The circle of life is rearranging. We are a piece of the circle, not the center. I'm not sure how I come to the distinction of me versus my garden. And frankly, I don't think I want to.