Somewhere in the world, bright flowers are blooming. Somewhere, the sun is shining down. Lovers are embracing somewhere and children are dreaming in their mother’s arms. Somewhere, great music is playing and songs are being sung. Someone is climbing a mountain, someone is offering prayer. Somewhere, friends are breaking bread and weaving memories. Somewhere, butterflies float and colored birds take wing. Somewhere stars are glittering in a velvet sky. And everywhere, always, the Great Yes unfolds in waves of limitless love.
As September knows, beginings matter. (Happily, they come with every breath.) So she flings flowers on the creek bank, spikes of purple for valor, yellows for warmth, lacy white for purity. A breeze blows. The creek ripples with joy. Her opening act complete, September dances on, sure that all her days will be filled with color and joy and grace.
It’s not the fact that the sun is shining, or that chocolate is at hand, or that she loves you. You can have all of that and more, and it won’t mean a thing if you’re not at peace in the first place.
The best such things can do for you is to let you relax into the peace that’s already there, and always has been.
Find that, and your inner sun will always be shining, she will love you more deeply than even she knows, and you won’t’ care at all whether the world is made of chocolate or missing it altogether.
Regardless of how things may seem, regardless of confusion, conflict and pain, always there is that which is pure and simple and singing with joy, that which gives balance and the assurance of grace. Go about your day, then, with gladness. These blossoms are reminders that you are known and dearly loved.
One night this week I happened on an old interview with Neale David Walsch, author of the popular Conversations with God series. At the time of the interview, Walsch was just out with his fourth book, Awaken the Species, and he was talking about some of the main concepts it covers.
In case you’re not familiar with the Conversations series—or not even vaguely interested in reading what somebody says about God—you may find it intriguing that the first point the voice that Walsch identified as “God” had to make was, “You’ve got me all wrong.”
As Walsch pointed out in the interview, even if you’ve dismissed the idea of the existence of God entirely, if that sentence has even a smidgen of truth to it, it suggests that you may want to question what you do believe about the possibility and nature of a conscious, unimaginably vast and creative Supreme Being.
That suggestion—about questioning beliefs—prompted me to remember one of the most challenging and valuable assignments I was ever given in college. It was the final exam in a course called “American Thought and Language,” which covered significant (and often opposing) ideas that had arisen in the country from the time prior to the Revolution up to the present. The assignment was to write an essay entitled “I Believe,” in which we were to discuss a few of our personal beliefs and give our reasons for holding them.
Every now and then, I assign that essay to myself again, just to uncover the beliefs that are driving me now and to examine them. If you’re up for the challenge, I heartily recommend it. It’s very revealing.
But that’s not the main thought that I brought away from the Walsch interview. The idea that struck me most deeply was one Walsch shared when the host asked him what was the biggest piece of advice he could give people, based on his latest book. Walsch said he would tell people what he was told was the most important thing: “Your life isn’t about you. It has nothing to do with you. It’s about everyone whose life you touch and the way in which you touch it.”
My whole being breathed a sigh of awe over the profound beauty of that thought. Imagine what it would be like if each of us asked, “How can I help? What can I do to make your life easier, more comfortable, more peaceful, more pleasant?” What if we looked for ways we could give encouragement to each other? If we set out to make the environment a healthier more beautiful place? If we listened to each other more? If we looked more into each other’s eyes? If we looked for ways to ease another’s burden or to alleviate some of their stress? If we did our jobs knowing that they were contributing, in however small a way, to the well-being of others and took joy in that?
So that’s the thought I leave with you this week, the message that it’s all about every life you touch and how you touch it.
I wish you the insight to see what’s needed, and the generosity of spirit to give as only you can.
Beside the still waters, the wildflowers grow, one for each living being displaced by flood or drought or fire. Nodding in the rain, they whisper songs of comfort, the strains rising like prayers. The soil beneath your feet, they say, is home. And all the air is yours and the hours. And though we are far away and mere wildflowers, our essence flows to you to lend you strength and to assure you that hands will come to lift you, and hours will come to soothe.
One by one, the leaves decide. Who will go first? Who will hang on? Who will be the last to go? Already there were some who could not resist the chance to fly, to ride the wind, to be free of any restraint, to sail birdlike on the wings of air. Most waited, savoring the familiar view, savoring its changes. There was no right or wrong. Time would tell them when to fly. And time, the creek told them, has a way of doing things in exactly the right order.
Now come the golden days, mornings filled with fog, nights where cricket song floats through crisp, cool air. On the roads, yellow buses roll past once more with laughing children peering from their windows. Goldenrod fills the meadow; wild sunflowers line the creeks. In the fields, beans, corn, pumpkins and squash race toward their fruition. And the fragrance and feel of it all wakes us, and we turn the calendar’s page.
Let the nights grow longer. Still, we will hold the sun. Let the fierce winds blow and the rains fall. Usher in the cold. We will hold the sun. In memory of sweet summer, until our days are done, for the sake of your joy, we will shine on, beaming the glorious sun.
You never know when you set out what your journey will bring. Anything you can imagine is possible, and then some. It’s all a gift, you know, a chance for you to explore your choices, to decide who you will be, and to discover what you’re made of. Hold onto your hope and keep your faith, remembering that, regardless, light shines at the end of the road.
