I must remind myself:
the wildflowers will wait.
I must remind myself:
the wildflowers will wait.
As I sit quietly, alone,
with the birds as my friends,
I watch the orchard
sway with the breeze
and I ask myself:
Is it the orchard, alone, I see?
Or has the orchard become
the miraculous creation
of the wind?
I am the soft of you
and you are the soft of me.
There is nothing
that taints this great love.
not even the words
you cannot say
while I stare,
while I marvel at your majesty
and blooming life.
Sweet love of my life.
I see you, darling.
I sat beside the river and smiled. It seemed a little funny to me that us humans believe we are the stars of this Earth show and that nature is here for us, rather than with us. What if we are here for nature? I think it’s more likely that we are all just here, to be whoever and whatever we are.
Last night as I sat beside the river, an epiphany that’s been growing within me grew a little more, so I thought I’d share it with you guys, just in case you’re interested.
I’ll start with the trees. Trees begin with a trunk. As they rise (grow) they branch out, one branch at a time. Each branch thickens and solidifies over time, and as it does it gives birth to new branches, which then give birth to new branches and new branches, until finally we reach the climax: the leaf.
Flowers. All begin with a stem which grows and, in time, becomes a beautiful little bud, bursting for change, bursting to open. Petal by petal it reveals itself, until eventually we have a fully open flower. It doesn’t happen over night, the growth process. But perhaps that’s the whole point of all life. The journey.
We know roughly what will come of a growing tree/flower because we’ve seen it so many times before and so the expectation is to look toward the finished product. To wait for it, even. But what if we’d never seen a fully grown flower? What if we’d never seen a fully grown tree? All we would have is each individual moment to watch the flower bloom. The same is true for the tree.
A flower/tree has never experienced itself, or this life, before, so how would it know how to grow but to simply let the process be and to experience whatever may happen along the way?As the flower blooms, as the tree branches out, as the human lives and ages…all there is is the process. Living. Experiencing. That’s all there is. For all of us.
And so it could be said that nature is here to live and experience life as consciously and fully as we humans are. Each flower is here to find out what it is like to be that particular flower in that particular environment, in every moment it lives. Some flowers live to be picked or destroyed. Some live their whole lives to wither and naturally die. The same goes for trees. Some tree branches may be jumped on by a child and broken, leaving the tree injured and in need of renewal and repair. Some will mend on their own. Some will need help. Some, as nature and all things go eventually, will die.
These processes the natural world go through: they are really no different than the processes we go through, as humans. Growth. Challenges. Being loved and cared for. Being abused. Nature goes through it all, right alongside of us, and none of us have any clue what the journey will be until we are in it, living it, being it.
This will likely sound a little (cough: really quite) crazy to those of you who are absolutely not on the nature train, so perhaps I’ll leave you with a little piece of homework, if you’re interested in diving deeper. When you are next outside, go to the nearest tree and hold your hand up beside a leaf (palm facing you). Look at the leaf carefully. Then look at your hand carefully. Look at the leaf and your hand, again.
When you see it, you will smile, I guarantee you that much. And you will know, without any doubt, that you are not at all alone in this universe.
Nor have you ever been.
A rose is just a rose
to those who choose
not to know her.
Beautiful little flower.
Her petals close upon the darkening sky
and she sleeps,
opening again to the morning sun.
Searing heat tortures her softness.
Storms tear at her fragile frame.
Yet she keeps waking, opening.
She does not fight the weather that takes her,
she gracefully lives.
And how beautiful she seems
when she just
through it all.
How lovely the humans are
as the tulips tip toe around them.
Have you noticed how flowers open in groups? How certain flowers within the group open first, followed closely by a new lot that, for whatever reason, begin to grow and change at a different time.
But always they open as a group.
This is an important thing, I think.
Within their group, some flowers open together. Some individually. Some die just as the next lot begin to open, but one thing seems as sure as the sun does shine—
Every flower exists to open.
This is the natural way of things, I think.
Humans could learn a lot from flowers. We could learn to let the opening process be what it will be. You cannot stop a flower from opening as it will, and no matter how hard you try…you cannot stop a human from opening as it will, either.
So open as you will. Be a flower.
This will be your gift to the world, I think.
Once upon a time, there was a garden.
And this garden—
It was the most magnificent garden in all the land.
Because, in this most darling of places, every day was a new season…
And every day was more beautiful than the last.
Everyone thought so.
Even those who could not walk the shady path with their own two feet.
Especially those who could not walk the shady path with their own two feet.
But there was darkness in this garden, too.
Darkness that bled up the roots of the trees.
Darkness that wandered and swayed and crept along the weeds,
gobbling up all the gentle hearts that lay open in its wobbly path.
Most were afraid of the darkness.
But the girl.
Oh no, the girl was not afraid.
The girl would never be afraid, for her heart was as golden as the sunshine.
And golden hearts (as everybody knows) need not be afraid of the dark.
For the girl, each new day in the garden was beautiful.
So full of charm.
And daffodils swaddled in polka dots…
Magic lived in that garden too, did you know?
Well. You do now.
And the girl…she was the master of every little trick.
Every little miracle.
So, next time you wander the brightest day…
You might think of that girl.
Of her garden made from all the darling things.
And you might wish that you were there with her—
Two dreamers, marveling at all the lovely things.
Yes. What a sweet dream that would be.