Did you ever notice how you knew, before your choice registered in your mind, which option you’d choose? It’s not so much a matter of analysis, unless perhaps to ask what seems to align more with your purpose. It’s more a matter of checking in to see what you have already concluded. You can tell because it puts the suspense of it to rest. It sets you in motion, confident and eager, open to discover whatever lies ahead, just beyond what you can see. Something inside knows. And look where it’s led you!
When the hot winds blow, child, when the ice returns, when the world feels barren and bleak, in the midst of the darkest nights when fear or pain engulfs you, recall these petals, so soft and sweet, and remember how tender Love is.
A friend of mine had been struggling with some physical challenges for a couple weeks. One day, she got a card in the mail from a woman who missed seeing her in their usual meeting places. “You are stronger than anything life can bring,” the card said. My friend smiled broadly as she repeated the words again. They were, she told me, exactly what she needed to hear.
I don’t know about you, but I think that’s a powerful story. It’s so simple and unassuming. And it has such heart at its heart.
That’s really what we all want, after all. More heart in our days. We just want to care about each other and to know that we’re cared about, too. We just want to be neighbors, with greetings to exchange and a hand to lend when its needed. We just want to give, and to be met with, simple honesty and good will.
That almost sounds like a description of a fantasy world, doesn’t it? A tale from some alternative universe. And that’s a shame. And how we ache for it to be our reality!
I confess that I sometimes despair that we’ll ever get there. Some days, when I look around at the world’s current events, I think I must have died and landed in hell.
Then I go out and feed the birds and look at the sky. Maybe I connect with a friend. Maybe I hear a story that makes me laugh. Maybe I just happen to notice the way the sunlight falls across the lawn. Somehow, something happens that invites me to shift my awareness, to allow my sense of appreciation kick in. And bit by bit I’m learning how delicious it is to accept that invitation.
It’s not that I relinquish my knowledge of the world’s problems. I simply allow my images of them to broaden to encompass the aspects of the world, and of humanity, that are positive, and beautiful and strong.
I visit a wide variety of places on the internet over the course of a week. Several of them are live shows with viewers chatting on the side, or videos that allow viewers to post comments. They let me see a wide range of attitudes and thought and cultural shaping. It fascinates me. Over the last little while, maybe six months or so, I’ve begun to notice a new idea take hold and begin to grow. In a variety of ways, I hear people from different camps and tribes starting to say that they’re done with pointing out and fighting against the things that are wrong. Instead, they’re going to put their energy into thinking about how things could be, and to live their own lives with those things in mind as their guides. I smile every time I see someone say that’s their new plan. I think it’s the best one going.
One day a woman who lived as she wanted people to live sent a word of encouragement to a friend she missed seeing. “You are stronger than anything life can bring,” the card said.
Isn’t that a wonderful story?
Oh, and always remember those words from George Elliot, “It’s never too late to become who you always wanted to be.”
The flowers that have been dearly loved from generation to generation across continents and cultures have returned. Today, one such treasured blossom opened from its full round bud into a petticoat of ruffles in shades of palest pink and spilled a fragrance reminiscent of lilacs and roses combined, heady and wonderful. And we recalled the gardens of our mothers and grandmothers and thanked our lucky stars.
The pastel sky sings the evening dreams that rise from the sleeping trees and fields. Soon I, too, will let go of the day and fall asleep with flowers waltzing through my head, wave after wave of them, oceans of gold and green and blue washing up against stands of water iris, lapping the roots of the holly and the fern as wild white roses tumble softly down on their vines. And I will hear a lullaby of tiny bells chiming, “Remember. Remember.” And I will sleep well, smiling.
I stand in the deep vegetation at the creek’s edge stunned by the countless shades of green and by the tangled lushness of it all. A mere six weeks ago, I was hunting for the first wild flower, hoping one had poked up through the still brown and matted grass. And look now, what the spring has wrought in what feels like a blink of my awestruck eyes. God, I love May! How could You write Your Yes more clearly? How could one see this and doubt Your being!
Every time I wrote the date today I thought of you and felt a smile spread across my face, warm as honey. Just think, it was over a century ago, probably on a day as lovely as this one, that you were born, gracing the world with a loveliness all your own. I miss you. But oh, how I carry you in my heart! How I feel your arms surrounding me! How I know, more deeply with every passing day, how magnificent you were! And how indebted and grateful I am for all the gifts you so generously gave, to me, and to all whose lives your courage and gentleness touched. Happy Birthday, Marion May. I love you.
Listening to her heart, the rhododendron was at ease, even though the work was complex and new. She trusted, not as one trusts a mere belief, but as one trusts from experience, that the next step would make itself known.
Sometimes she had to stretch herself, to reach higher and farther than she thought she could. Often she couldn’t see how things would turn out. But it was the challenges that made the work fun.
Just days ago, after all, she was a green bud. And now, here she was, her petals pink and broad, glistening in the morning sun.
Had you asked her, she would not have been able to tell you how a bud transforms into a flower. She didn’t even know then that a flower was what she would become.
She only knew that life’s patterns were drawn in wisdom and love and that her task was to listen for the harmonies and to let them guide her. And so she worked with a sense of spacious ease, centered and content, and filled with quiet joy.
Wild roses tumble from tree limbs now and cascade on their vines down the hills, their white petals accenting the lush foliage that has overtaken the world. “Summer,” they breathe, although its official start is still a month away. I inhale the warmth of the green air, watch the sunlight play on the roses’ petals, and smile, feeling the slide of the seasons.
I come inside after gazing at the newly opened iris, the season’s first, just in time to catch a conversation floating from the laptop on my kitchen table. “Happiness,” Mo is saying, “isn’t about getting what you want.” He pauses slightly and smiles. “It’s about loving what you have.” (How could we not!) Quietly, words from a card pinned above my desk flow through my mind: “Look around you. Appreciate what you have. Nothing will be the same in a year.” I look around, my eyes brushing everything with thanks so deep it nearly spills right over the brim.
