The modern internet floods us with information, but rarely does it offer clarity. As a computer science student, I often thought I understood something, until I tried to explain it and found myself stuck. What I had wasn’t knowledge. It was scattered recall. The real issue wasn’t memory; it was structure.
That realization led me to personal knowledge management (PKM), and eventually to digital gardening: a growing movement that redefines how we think, learn, and share on the web.
This isn’t just a blog. It’s my personal garden of thought.
Why I Started a Digital Garden
I discovered digital gardening through Reddit, specifically the r/ObsidianMD community. What clicked for me was the idea that I could organize my website not by time, but by content, like a wiki, but personal and expressive.
Traditional blogs feel like booking a hotel room: pre-furnished, time-bound, and limited by platform rules. A digital garden, on the other hand, is like building my own house. I decide the structure, the rules, and even what gets shown to guests. I wanted a space that reflected how I think, not how the internet wants me to perform.
During my military service, I had rare, quiet time to reflect. I realized I wanted to build a system, not for grades, not for work, but for thinking itself. A place to explore ideas without pressure. That’s when I decided to start my own digital garden.
The Philosophy Behind It
To me, knowledge is a seed. When nurtured, with care as water and connections as sunlight, it grows into a network of understanding. Some thoughts blossom immediately. Others stay buried until a related idea emerges and connects the dots. That’s the beauty of non-linear thinking: serendipity.
Digital gardening encourages half-written notes. You don’t need to be perfect. You just plant an idea and let it evolve. Over time, these seedlings grow into fully developed insights, or branch out in directions you never expected.
My Garden’s Architecture
My system starts in Obsidian, where I use Markdown-based notes following the Zettelkasten method. I treat each atomic note as a node in a network. Notes are not isolated, they are hyperlinked to related ideas.
I publish using Quartz v4 as a base, but I’m planning to eventually build my own site architecture. Notes only go public when they reach a minimum maturity level, but even then, they’re never final. I constantly revise and prune as I grow.
What I’m Growing
I’m uploading everything I learn, from algorithms and data structures, to finance, psychology, music theory, and even book/movie reviews. While this overlaps with a developer blog, the difference is that I treat this as a reflection of my inner world, not just my résumé.
My portfolio website is about strengths and presentation.
My digital garden is about flaws, interests, questions, and thoughts-in-progress.
Together, they form the full picture of who I am.
Sharing My Thoughts Publicly
Initially, I was uncomfortable with the idea of showing people my thought process. I’m an introvert, both offline and online. I usually avoid expressing opinions. In fact, I think that’s part of why I started feeling like my identity was fading.
But humans are social beings. And this garden is a mirror, it helps me see myself, even before others see me.
Reading other people’s gardens was eye-opening. Some notes were fascinating. Others were disturbing. But more importantly, I was exposed to new ways of thinking, new neurons firing in my mind, connecting things I never would have on my own.
The Future of My Garden
My dream? To replicate the structure of my brain. Total interconnection. Every idea tied to others. It’s a fantasy, but moving toward it gives me direction. And that’s enough.
Digital gardening isn’t a trend.
It’s a paradigm shift.
We’re moving from centralization to personalization, from algorithmic timelines to meaningful islands of thought.
In a world of noise, we’re carving out quiet places: gardens, where ideas can grow slowly and deliberately.
Maybe AI will help us connect these islands someday.
But until then, I’m tending mine, one note at a time.
Final Thoughts: The Hardest Part
The hardest part?
Writing.
Not the publishing, not the tech stack.
Just the act of getting thoughts out of my head and onto the page.
But that’s the work.
That’s the garden.