Selene and his father, a professor of psychology, were enjoying a spring afternoon on their garden lawn—flourishing in the heart of Boston, where vibrant blooms and lush greenery celebrate the season’s arrival. Flowering shrubs like forsythias and azaleas line the lawn’s edges, their vivid yellow and pink flowers against the deep green of newly budded trees. Dappled sunlight filters through delicate cherry blossom trees scattered throughout, creating a soft pink canopy over the fresh, thick grass below.
Spring filled the beds with seasonal flowers—tulips, daffodils, and hyacinths in bold red, yellow, and purple—adding rich color to the space. Ornamental grasses sway gently in the breeze, adding texture to the display, while a small, meandering path invites visitors to stroll through this peaceful spring haven. Early-season perennials, like lungwort and bleeding hearts, bloom near the walkway, softening the edges with pastel hues and creating an intimate, harmonious space.
With each breeze, the scent of spring blooms fills the air while the garden buzzes with pollinators, from bees to butterflies, adding life and energy. This spring garden lawn becomes a vivid oasis, celebrating nature’s renewal in Boston’s crisp spring climate.
Selene and his father sat face to face on chairs. A teapot, two cups, a water jar, two mugs, a can of mixed nuts, and some strawberries were on the table in the middle of them.
Selene asked his father you remember about William?
William, yes, your school principal. Ah, he is one of the best teachers I have ever met. Do you have any contact with him? Professor replied.
No, father. But I remember when we were little fellows entering the school by the small gate. William always stood on the lawn to greet us, saying good morning and shaking our hands. He was an adorable person—a drop of tears down Selene’s cheeks. Selene paused for some time. You know, father, now I understand he always wanted to nurture our talent and always wanted us to be good human beings.
You are right, my son. Professor agreed.
The gentle breeze was pouring a cascade of memories into Selene’s mind. Selene started again. William’s care was holistic. He rounded the classes, sometimes sat beside us, and listened to the class teachers as if he were one of the students. During the tiffin break, he sat in the middle of us on a stool and sang with his guitar: “Jingle bells, jingle bells, Jingle all the way, Santa Claus is coming along, Riding down this way.” Sometimes, oh my darling, oh my darling, oh my darling Clementine, you are lost and gone forever. Dreadful, sorry, Clementine.
Selene’s voice is heavy now. His professor-father kept silent.
Selene started again. William spoke little at school functions, study tours, a road cleaning program, and donating clothes to people experiencing poverty everywhere. Still, he showed lively enthusiasm for how a man should be and how intelligence can serve humanity. Father, is there a holistic approach to intellectual growth?
Yes, my son, the professor replied.
As the professor nodded, he took a sip from his tea, letting the gentle warmth spread through him. “William understood that intellect isn’t just knowledge—it’s a fusion of curiosity, empathy, and resilience,” he began. “He embodied a kind of learning that grows from engaging with life fully, something we might call intellectual wellness.”
Selene, intrigued, leaned forward. “How do we nurture that kind of intellect, Father?”
The professor smiled, glancing at the flowers around them. “It begins with small choices. We nurture our minds by feeding them with knowledge, creativity, and challenges as we care for this garden. We can nourish our intellect through four things: by what we eat, how we move, what we pursue, and how we manage our stress.”
With the garden as their classroom, the professor explained how nutrient-rich foods fuel the body and mind, how physical health boosts mental clarity, and how pursuits like music and hobbies stimulate critical thinking. He shared that managing stress was just as crucial as clearing the mind and keeping it open to new ideas and connections.
By the time they’d finished their tea, the sun was low on the horizon, casting a warm glow over the lawn. Selene sat back, taking in his father’s words. He felt a sense of renewal—a quiet commitment to his intellectual garden, one he could tend as faithfully as William had nurtured his students.
As the last rays of sunlight warmed the garden, Selene leaned back, looking at his father with renewed curiosity. “Father, you mentioned that our intellect can grow by what we eat. Food affects energy, but how does it shape our mind?”
The professor smiled, nodding. “Just as we choose what to plant in a garden, Selene, the food we eat plants seeds in our minds. Foods rich in nutrients—like berries, nuts, or even dark leafy greens—fuel brain health, helping with memory and concentration. William often shared that a clear mind relies on a healthy body, much like a thriving garden depends on rich soil.”
Selene, absorbing this, replied, “So even simple choices like food affect our clarity?”
“Yes,” his father continued, “and so does physical health.” He gestured to the small path leading through the garden. “When we’re active, it’s as though we’re tending to the mind’s pathways. Exercise releases chemicals that reduce stress and improve focus, much like clearing this path would make it easier to walk through and enjoy.”
The analogy settled into Selene’s mind, giving him a fresh perspective. “What about pursuits, Father? How do they contribute to intellectual health?”
The professor chuckled, leaning forward. “Think of pursuits as the garden’s variety. Pursuing hobbies, music, art—even building something with your hands—stimulates different brain parts. William encouraged creativity because it trains us to see from new perspectives. It’s why he played the guitar and sang with you all, building intellect and joy.”
A gentle breeze rustled the cherry blossoms above them, carrying with it the scent of spring blooms. Selene closed his eyes briefly as though savoring a long-lost memory. “And stress,” he said, almost to himself. “William never seemed rattled. How did he manage?”
His father took a deep breath, watching Selene closely. “Managing stress, my son, is like letting a garden breathe. Without space to unwind, even the healthiest plants can wither. William understood this and practiced it quietly—through music, silence, and connection. Stress management keeps our thoughts clear, our creativity flowing, and our curiosity alive.”
The professor’s words lingered as the garden held the silence like a gentle embrace. For a while, neither of them spoke. Then, slowly, Selene nodded a newfound resolve, lighting his face.
Selene, all of a sudden, stood up, ran towards his room, and returned with his guitar. It had been long days since we had sung together, Father.
The professor jumped from his chair and started dancing with ecstasy, Hurray.
They both started singing, “Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way. Santa Claus came along, riding down this way.” before the first stroke hit the string, it continued with the playing guitar. The moon also laughed, sang, and danced with them in the grey sky.
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