Lesson of Essence

Last week was a stretching episode of internal rearranging following on from Essence conference. There were so many different things that impacted me and initiated change of mindset, but at the root of them all was my 'one word'. Identity.

The days that followed the shift of transformation were fraught with the opposite of what I thought should occur. Everything went wrong. I just could not make sense of the fact that just when I thought I had grasped the edge of something new and incredible that my silly mental snow globe would be shaken to a blurry whirling mess. My ability to reason and analyse were completely dis-engaged. I could not make sense of a single thing. Relationships, home stuff and photography work all went crazy. I paced up and down. Tried to form words around the spinning headspace.
Eventually I got an extension on the photography deadline and snapped my laptop shut. Stepping over mounting piles of housework, ignoring stacked dishes and messy beds I bundled up Mishal and we headed out. I found myself driving to the Plant Barn. Grabbing a trolley I walked around selecting a few pots and plants that caught my eye, trying to breathe deeply and not think. Later that day, I set about potting and planting my new green friends.
As my hands moved over the plants, things began to quieten down in my brain. I pruned, re-potted, planted and watered. Without much conscious choice I had chosen simply what caught my attention. Strawberries, ornamental kale, sweet peas, alyssum and geraniums.

Hardly exotic. But later that night as I lay in the dark and the gentle process of my mini-gardening replayed realised I had chosen only red and white plants. A fruit, a vegetable and simple blossoms signifiying nourishment, life and purity.

Those seeds and seedlings are quietly growing where they are planted.
They don't struggle to be better.
They just are incredibly beautiful through no action of their own.

I find them amazing. Each scultured leaf, vibrant petal and fragile set of root feet makes me smile. Grow I tell them. Just be yourselves. I am your gardener. I want to see you come to sprout and fruit and full fragrance.

I will water you, shelter you and have paid for you. You belong to me alone. I don't see my ornamental kale wracking its leaves to work things out. It just IS. The geranium is face up to the warmth and underneath the soil, my sweet peas are unfurling in secret. To my knowledge, the strawberries haven't thrown a tantrum because they want to be blueberries.

Lesson understood. Loud and clear.

Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you.
Jer 1:5

Anonymous –   – (July 6, 2009 at 3:13 PM)  

Beautiful. I especially love the last picture. Peace immortalized.

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