Four baby robins were born, their turquoise eggs bursting open to reveal yellow beaks and big eyes not yet open and the fuzziest down barely covering their little pink bodies.
On the hillside, little ferns poked out to begin unfurling their curled-up leaves. and at the woods’ edge, dogwood danced in the spring sky, breathing the fragrance of the lilac, just opening her petals.
Bright dandelions waltzed with violets. Wild forget-me-nots came to take in the view. The ancient trees put forth their leaves, and popcorn ball globes of white blossoms partied on the lawn at the base of the hill.
This is what sustains me through the winter, the dream of this. Yet even my best dreams pale now that spring is finally here, alive with new life, feeding my soul, singing the blessing of wondrous this day.
To live in a world where flowers bloom, despite all harshness, against all odds, is the same as tasting music, as breathing the dawn. Every petal is a promise whispering Yes into the caves of the heart, proof that hope is never in vain, that the unspeakable longings of the soul are known and met with love and unfathomable beauty.
See? The rose-peach quince is in bloom, another confirmation of spring’s constancy, the reappearance of an old friend who blossoms her hello to me each and every year without fail. It’s been over a quarter century now, and she was already grown and in full flower when I met her.
I raise my lemon water in a toast. “To you, fine old friend,” I say aloud, and she nods in the gentle May breeze, her coral skirts flared, her yellow stamens raised to the sun. Then we both stand silently for a moment, breathing in each other’s joy, satisfied and glad.
Just to see green again and tender leaves opening beneath a cloud-billowed sky is enough to let you breathe again, to sigh contented sighs of relief and joy. In the reeds by the creek at the base of the hill red-winged blackbirds call and the grass sprouts wild forget-me-knots and dandelions. The world is alive again. And so are we. So are we, my love. So are we.
If May gives us nothing beyond this one perfect day, it will have been more than enough. From its clear dawning until the sun set in a flotilla of golden clouds, each moment came drenched in beauty. Dew sparkled the morning’s lawns; tulips opened, and violets. Robins and finches and doves caroled in the branches of trees that were alive with buds and leaves in a thousand shades of red and green. And above them, whipped cream clouds danced with the sun, painting the land with kaleidoscopic hues, now bright, now dark, now showering the earth with luminous pearls until you reeled in wonder that such heavenly beauty could continue hour after sparkling hour. And when the sun had set, the azure dome, clear now and turning indigo, lifted its moon and planets and stars in a magnificent silent finale, leaving you in awe, that you could be, here, now, alive in the midst of all this splendor.
I was sorting a stack of books this week when I ran across a little gem that i had forgotten—One Small Step Can Change Your Life: The Kaizen Way. It was all the rage in management circles when it came out in 2004. Then it seems to have slipped from view. That’s too bad. It packs a lot of wisdom. In fact, I have to wholeheartedly agree with this review from its back cover by psychologist Dr. Susan Jeffers:
“This is a wonderful, very readable book that describes a peaceful and simple way of handling all the difficulties in our lives. You will breathe a sigh of relief as you read it.”
That’s a pretty big claim, but I believe its absolutely true. In short, Kaizen is a technique for change that originated in Japan that promotes the art of taking small steps, It demolishes the obstacle I call “Looking at the Mountain” that leads to nothing but overwhelm and procrastination. The “mountain” can be anything at all that you would like to achieve, from doing the after-dinner dishes, to starting an exercise program, or changing careers, or getting started at . . .well, anything. You look at the task and it just feels beyond your ability to deal with right now. It’s too complicated, or you don’t have the energy or motivation. So you put it aside and feel a little disappointed with yourself. Bummer.
But don’t despair! It’s Kaizen to the rescue! Instead of looking at the whole mountain, Kaizen gently coaxes you to break it down into teeny-tiny pieces and then tackle just the first little piece.
A few years ago I heard a story about this retired guy who spent his time sitting in front of the TV all day smoking and drinking whiskey. True story. He lived with one of his kids and didn’t have to make his own meals or do his own laundry or anything. He spent his days like this for about a year, and one day, from the window by his chair he saw the mailman put the day’s mail in the box at the end of the sidewalk. On a whim, he decided to walk out and get the mail. It felt kind of good to do that and he started to get the mail every day. After a while, he thought he’d see what it felt like to walk to end of the block, and he did that. Then he started walking around the block. One thing led to another, and he got so hooked on being in motion and exploring the neighborhood that he gave up his smokes and whiskey and started to jog. Then he tried running and he liked that, too. And two years after he got out his chair to get the mail, he won a seniors’ marathon racing up Pike’s Peak.
That’s what little steps will do for you. Once upon a time, that old fellah would have laughed in your face if you told him he’d be running up Pike’s Peak in a couple years. He probably thought he’d be six feet under by then. But he took that one small first step, and it changed his life.
So the next time a task feels like climbing a mountain, ask yourself what tiny first step can you take. Maybe it’s just getting up from your chair when the next commercial comes on, and then walking to the kitchen when the next one rolls around. Kaizen. It kind of makes a perfect complement to the question “How easy can I let this be?” Don’t you think?
Wishing you sweet little baby steps on your way to your goals!
Back in the old days, people knew how to recognize medicine on sight. When a child brought tiny blue flowers to her mother, the mother would say, “Oh! Speedwells! Aren’t they sweet? And did you know they make delicious tea and that they will cure what ails you?”
And the child would lead the mother to the patch where the speedwell grew, and they would dig little clumps of it with delight, the mother telling all the ailments it was known to cure: cough, rough breathing, hurting skin, rheumatism, tummy aches and more.
And at home, they would brew some tea, smiling as they slowly sipped it, and some would go in a labeled bottle, an elixir to soothe you and restore you to health. And they would place some of the little plants in the garden because the sight of them alone is enough to brighten your day.
It’s not that nature’s beauty consumes me. It’s the refuge it provides from the rest of it, from conflicts and disasters large and small that cover the globe; from the endless prattle of the lonely because talking is the only way they know to mark the world with their presence, to connect, to find meaning; from the struggles for survival, for status, for power, for control, and for all the touted doodads that promise to raise them or to provide relief from the fight.
Walk in the woods. Listen to the trees. Observe the details in the smallest flower. See the seasons unfold. Watch the clouds and stars float above you. Take solace in an order beyond our knowing, a power and intelligence we cannot comprehend. Feel how you are a child of it, how you move within its omnipresent embrace, loved even when you are asleep in it, unconscious of its plan and grace and mercy. Wonder at its intricacy, its obedience to inviolable laws. Think how this is but the skin that the Yes wears, this mysterious, ever-dancing curtain of matter. Think how majestic is that which brought it into being and bestowed on us our capacities to see, to taste, to move and desire, to seek, to find, to love, and, finally, to know.
Except that the Yes is the source of joy, Spring need not have come with such beauty. A limited pallet might have served as well, a handful of standardized designs. We could have as easily performed our daily tasks without being caught in this web of wonder, without being stopped in our tracks to gaze and smile at little pink flowers whose centers burst with polka dot stars. But the Yes, which is made of love, cannot help but leave its beauty everywhere—just in case your heart might need to hear its tender, endless song.
Unlike flowers, who know only joy and whose tenderness is unfailing, we who dwell in human skins know such things as cruelty, grief, pain, and loss. And that is why the flowers are tender and why they whisper joy: to comfort us and remind us that even in our darkest days, we are deeply loved.
