From rooftop gardens to meditation circles, Shaulene Wright has made it her life’s work to nurture growth — in both plants and people.
Based in Brooklyn, NY, she brings together the quiet discipline of Buddhism and the vibrant energy of urban gardening. We sat down with Shaulene to discuss her journey, her daily practice, and how tending soil can transform the mind.
Q: Shaulene, can you take us back to the beginning — how did your journey into gardening start?
Shaulene Wright:
I grew up in a small town in upstate New York where gardens were part of the landscape. My grandmother had this patch behind her house where she grew tomatoes, marigolds, and mint. I was probably seven when she first let me plant my own row of radishes. I still remember the smell of the soil after rain. Those early memories stayed with me, but it wasn’t until I moved to Brooklyn that I began to see gardening as more than just planting things.
Q: What was it like making the leap from rural gardens to an urban rooftop?
Shaulene:
Honestly, it was a bit of a shock. In Brooklyn, space is a luxury. When I first started, I had two planter boxes on the roof of my building. The wind was fierce, and the summer heat reflected off the tar. My first basil plant didn’t make it past July. But I learned quickly. You adapt — you choose hardier plants, you create windbreaks, you learn to harvest rainwater. It’s problem-solving mixed with patience.
Q: Where does Buddhism fit into this story?
Shaulene:
Buddhism entered my life in my early twenties, after a friend invited me to a meditation session at a small centre in the city. At first, I went for stress relief. But the more I practised, the more I began to see the parallels between the garden and the mind. Both require attention, compassion, and acceptance. Sometimes a seed won’t sprout — just like sometimes a plan won’t work out. You don’t force it; you just keep tending.
Q: Was there a moment when you realised the two practices — gardening and Buddhism — could be integrated?
Shaulene:
Yes. It was during a particularly difficult summer. The tomatoes caught blight, my meditation practice felt stagnant, and I was working long hours at my day job. One morning I went to the garden and instead of rushing to “fix” things, I just sat among the plants and breathed. I realised that my urge to control everything was the same in the garden as it was in life. From then on, gardening became part of my meditation.
Q: How does that integration look in your daily routine now?
Shaulene:
I start my mornings in the garden, even in winter. I’ll walk the rows or check the pots, but without an agenda. It’s a way of tuning in — noticing how the leaves have changed, whether the soil is dry, how the air feels. That same attentiveness carries into my sitting practice. In the evenings, I host small meditation circles on the rooftop. Sometimes we’re surrounded by lavender or kale, depending on the season. The garden sets the tone.
Q: Brooklyn isn’t short on distractions. How do you maintain that sense of calm in such a busy environment?
Shaulene:
You learn to see noise as part of the practice. In meditation, we’re taught not to push away sounds or sensations — just to notice them and return to the breath. The garden’s the same. A siren might go by while you’re watering spinach. A neighbour might start drilling during a meditation session. It’s all part of the landscape. The stillness isn’t about escaping the noise, it’s about finding balance within it.
Q: What’s been the most surprising lesson the garden has taught you?
Shaulene:
Impermanence. Plants grow, flower, fruit, and fade. Sometimes that cycle is weeks; sometimes it’s years. Letting go of a plant that’s run its course isn’t failure, it’s part of the rhythm. That understanding has made it easier to navigate change in other areas of life too.
Q: Do you have a favourite success story from the garden?
Shaulene:
Last year, we grew sunflowers on the rooftop for the first time. It was an experiment — I wasn’t sure they’d survive the wind. But they did, and they became this beacon. Neighbours I’d never met started coming up to see them. People took photos, kids counted the petals. It reminded me that gardens aren’t just private spaces; they’re bridges between people.
Q: For someone reading this who wants to start their own garden in a small space, what’s your advice?
Shaulene:
Start small — one or two pots. Choose plants that make you happy to care for, not just the ones you think you “should” grow. Learn your space — how much light it gets, how the wind moves. And don’t get discouraged if something fails. That’s not the end, it’s the beginning of your learning.
Q: And for those curious about Buddhist practice but unsure where to start?
Shaulene:
Start with five minutes a day. Sit somewhere comfortable, focus on your breath, and let thoughts come and go. You don’t need incense or a cushion — just a bit of time and curiosity. Over time, you might find, like I did, that it connects naturally with other parts of your life.
Q: Looking ahead, how do you see your work evolving?
Shaulene:
I’d like to bring more people into the space. Maybe more community planting days or seasonal meditation events. The more we can connect with nature — even in a city — the more connected we become with ourselves and each other.
Shaulene Wright’s path from a childhood garden to a Brooklyn rooftop shows how the act of tending — whether to plants or to the mind — can become a quiet form of activism. Her work reminds us that even in the busiest cities, there’s room for stillness, growth, and connection.