The Sweet Striver

It’s the spring season again here in Northeast Ohio and that means both my lilac bush and dogwood tree are in full bloom. I just *love* that… J

So this year, instead of cutting off a sprig of lilac (smells so good!) and photographing it while in a vase on a table (and so therefore having a perspective of looking down on it from above), I decided to just let the bloom be and took pictures “au naturel” (that is, from underneath and looking up). And of course I love the new perspective! It feels more energetic and “vivacious” to me.

For me, the sweet little bloom I’ve focused on here has the sun on her face while she is yearning and striving and reaching and hoping for the gorgeous blue skies above. The other blooms already surge ahead of her but nevertheless, the confident young bloom is holding on to her own special wishes and dreams. The Sweet Striver quietly aspires to the boundless possibilities she knows are waiting in the open expanse of opportunity before her....

Soul-Swaying

I'm learning that part of the trick of growing into my authentic self is to go with the flow. To allow life to unfold for me and to be open to the detours it presents for me -- for those are the opportunities of growth, and eventually (hopefully), wisdom. I am not to be daunted or discouraged but patient, trusting and steadfast....

Gold versus Gray

I have loved this painting ever since I first saw it on a school field trip to the Cleveland Art Museum many years ago. I love the ominous drama of the dark clouds combined with the sturdy and stable sustenance of the wheat fields.

I only discovered, last year when I was at the art museum once more and I took the time to read the caption, that the painting (called "Gray and Gold" by John Rogers Cox who was an American painter) was painted at the beginning of World War II and could be interpreted to represent the crossroads the U.S. faced when considering entering into the war.

I can often feel this sense of looming danger. That's when my fears are stepping forward during times of change and unknown futures.

But I can choose to focus on the impending storm clouds or I can choose to feel comfort from the plentiful wheat. Focussing on the wheat won't make the clouds go away, I know, but it's a more stable grounding for me than the ever-changing sky. When the clouds have passed, the wheat fields, in some variation and most likely not without trauma, will still be there. Or, at the very least, the land for more wheat fields to be planted will still be there.

I have recently done some traveling to England and was taken in by a similar scene. I do *not* attempt to replace or recreate the original painting but it feels good for me that I have made my own photographic version of a painting that has quietly captured my spirit for many years:

Blurred Trust

Sometimes I want to control everything and *know* how it will all turn out. But I can't always do this -- or even, ever do this.

I am learning to trust the unknowing -- to allow the faint glimmers I see to be enough information for now.

Will it all turn out alright?

Will the day unfold as sunny or cloudy?

I don't know right now -- but I am learning to trust that I will be able handle whatever comes my way...

Trusting the Misunderstanding

Tender little flower buds like this one are found on the "prickle bushes" in my yard. I actually never noticed them before. They probably come every spring but this is the first time I took such close note.

This sweet yellow bud is smaller than a pea but yet it blooms forth with abandon to attract insects for pollination...

Of course the thorn is there to protect the vulnerable bud from larger scavengers and invaders -- animals that might eat her because she is pretty -- but does the bud understand that the thorn is there to help?

The bud does what she does but at the same time does she appreciate the reality that something everyone else fears, or at the very least misunderstands, is her protector?

Is it even important that the bud understand this purpose of the thorn or is it enough that she trusts it and so blooms in its presence?

Sweet and Delicate

There was a bumper crop of Lilies of the Valley this year. I'm not sure what the weather and climate did just right but the conditions must have been perfect to produce the plentiful beautiful flowers I had.

I've been tempted to pull out this row of Lilies of the Valley since for the past five years they weren't producing much of any susbtantial blooms.

And then this year I was completely surprised by an abundance of gorgeous and healthy flowers.

It's another lesson about patience and even faith. I don't seek out those learning opportunities very often so when they come to me unsolicited (and I am a aware enough to pick up on the message being sent to me!) it certainly must be important.

I'm glad I didn't pull out the Lilies of the Valley.