Nature's Garden & the Harmonious Chaos of Existence.

In March 2023, I captured this photo deep within the Amazon forests of Brazil. The dense tapestry of life unfolded before me—shrubs, trees, vines, and epiphytes interwoven, their fallen leaves forming a soft carpet on the forest floor. This, I thought, was nature’s garden—a wild, intricate masterpiece. 

At first glance, it seems devoid of symmetry. Humans crave symmetry; we create orderly gardens with straight paths, and our footprints trace lines across the Earth. But nature defies our neat constructs. Its symmetry is different—a dance of curves, spirals, and organic shapes. No straight lines here. Circles emerge, imperfect and textured, like ripples on water. The golden ratio whispers in the curves of seashells and the spirals of hurricanes.

Trees naturally thrive in biodiverse environments like forests, coexisting with fungi, epiphytes, and parasites. Twenty some years ago, when I settled in Lake Nona, the area boasted beautiful native forests. Sadly, these have been largely cleared for overdeveloped housing and apartment complexes. Poor urban planning has decimated what was once a beautiful environment. Perhaps this is humanity’s curse—to relentlessly consume resources. Now, only a few native forests remain. I recall wandering through these forests eager to discover a ‘mother tree’ from which all the nearby seedlings originated. Isolated trees in a field were a rarity, with the occasional lone oak tree the exception. Trees prefer to grow in clusters, where the mother tree nourishes its offspring, providing nutrients to the weaker seedlings through a symbiotic relationship with a complex underground network of mycorrhizal fungi. These networks possess their own form of intelligence, functioning as a sophisticated physiological web. Yet, we humans tend to isolate trees, aligning them in rows, apart from one another, our preference for straight lines overriding nature’s design.

When my mind was younger, I admired the classical symmetry of French and English gardens, and even the perfectly raked yet wabi sabi aesthetic of Japanese gardens. Life and reflection has taught me that our need for symmetry arises from the human mind. Now, as I meander through my neighborhood, and if I'm fortunate to come across some native trees, I find beauty in the asymmetry—the scattered leaves, the twisted branches, and the vibrant, untamed dance of life. It appears that nature’s symmetry is not found in straight lines but in the harmonious chaos that is existence.