Not a to-do list. You say how much you have in you today, and this gives you one small thing — sized to that, and finished when you stop.
How this works: there is no streak, no score, and nothing to keep up. Skipping a week costs you nothing, because nothing is being counted. One task at a time, and "I looked at a leaf" is a completed task.
Answer for right now, not for how you think you ought to feel.
In for four, hold for two, out for six. The long out-breath is the part that does the work. If you feel lightheaded, stop and breathe normally — that is not a failure, it just means the pace is wrong for you today.
Ready
Sit where you can see something green, if there is anywhere. If there is not, a photograph or the memory of one is enough.
Not achievements. Things you noticed — a smell, a change, an insect, the light. Attention is the whole exercise; writing it down is just what makes attention stick.
This is a gardening habit, not treatment. Tending something living helps a lot of people feel steadier, and that is worth having on its own terms — but it is not a substitute for care, and it is not meant to be.
If things feel heavier than a garden can hold, please talk to someone you trust or your doctor. Wanting support is not a sign that you are doing badly at this.
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