Spring awakening

Too soon to bloom.

Some of you may find this entry a little too spiritual. Fair warning: there be metaphysical dragons here. Turn back now, ye who scorn anything smacking of soul.

Allright, so I guess you’ve decided to come along, so here goes.

I’ve made a lot of changes over the past two weeks. One was to begin to be still, to stop letting life and chaos run my mind. On the first day I started to really try to meditate and be still, I asked for clarity and help in knowing my path. In my mind, I clearly heard a voice that said “check your email.” It repeated several times until I did.

What I found was a response from Carol Rawlins, a woman at church who had a written a sermon WHY THE BUDDHA SMILES that really changed my life. I had written to her about the sermon, which involved the idea of  how “the suffering mind lives toward the future, or the next moment.” Here is her reply in answer to my question about finding the right path:

Or will it find us if we stop making so much sound and fury?

That’s been my experience, but you have to not judge and not invest in expectations. I’m not sure I believe in destiny, because we do have free will, but I do think we have rhythms, ways that will make us happier than other ways. Go for what makes you happiest. Even service can be a joy if it is freely chosen and not a duty, although duty’s not bad either.

As Paul Tillich says about meditating, “As first you will do nothing. Later you will do much.”

Today, I tried the same method, which involved sitting on my blue quilt (the one Ethel made that I dreamt about and Becky gave me.) In my sight is my Kwan Yin statue (also in my dream) and a Tibetan chime I ring three times. I don’t want to bore you about the dream, but if you ask, I’ll tell you. It started this whole process, actually. Anyway, today, the message that came to me was “Cutting the lilacs.”

Now, my lilac trees have long been a source of dismay for me. I loved lilacs as a child, even had them at my wedding, and I found varieties that would grow in the weird California climate. They have only bloomed once in the ten years I’ve had them. That was while I was out of town. By the time I got back,the single bloom had withered.

Today, January, I took the shears and took to pruning the overgrown lilacs that had grown into trees with dead leaves. As I cut, I found three separate blooms starting to emerge. Three. I had cut them off. At first, I was heartbroken, but then in my mind I heard: “Too soon to bloom.” I collected the stunted blooms-to-be and brought them up to my little altar.

As I thought on it, I realized: Pruning needs to happen before things bloom. If not, the old growth, the dead and dying wood and leaves and debris clutter the area, stunt the growth of the blooms, and ultimately stop the beautiful flowers from achieving their potential. I was given a gift of three stunted blooms today, to tell me not to rush, to clear away the old brush that clutters my soul before desperately trying to move forward. I am doing that.


1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. Jon
    Jan 24, 2011 @ 22:43:38

    Just reading this made me calmer. Great post! Since I love to garden, I loved the analogies.


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