The Seeds of Empowerment

For the last four days I have been working in the yard -- gardening and planting a meadow.

Although I live in the suburbs I have a large yard that is divided into two sections -- one that is close to the house and gets a lot of use -- and one that is farther back and doesn't "do" too much.

This year I decided to put that back section to work!

I am turning it into a meadow -- a field of wildflowers. I have tilled the land and planted 6 pounds of wildflower seeds (that's a lot!)

I dream of living in "the country" but have no plans to move there just yet -- so instead, I am bringing "the country" to me...

The Fortune of Presence

When I get up close and peer quietly into, what feels to me like, the heart and soul of the Dogwood tree, I truly have a hard time finding words to explain how special I find her tender and delicate beauty -- and also, I find it hard to explain how privileged I feel to be her witness.

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?

The Wise World

Whenever I think there is "nothing to photograph" all I have to do is get down, close to the ground, and use macro. It's a whole new world -- and such a wise world too.

The details I see when in the "macro world" are, actually, awe-inspiring way far beyond the mundane limits of my life.

I can get wrapped up thinking the daily details of my life are important but then, when I look at all the gazillions and gazillions -- and even *more* gazillions -- of details in the macro world I am humbled and my chattering brain comes to a quick (and welcome, I must say) standstill.

I begin to grasp that the details of my world are as passing as the seeds of this dandelion. They come, they go, they serve a purpose, they are done.

Really, there is no need to get so wrapped up in each and every gazillion detail.

It's enough to trust that they all serve purpose and when the purpose is over the detail will move on...

Coming Out From Under

I've been having a headache/migraine for the past 5 days. It is not fun. When I am in the throws of the headache it feel like I am this tree, enveloped in the fog of pain (to put it mildly).

But I am starting to come out now and that clearing away of the mist is as refreshing (and welcome) as this tree is beautiful as it emerges from its own haze...

The Woman Inside

Along with Lilacs, another favorite spring flower of mine is Lily of the Valley.

It seems that the smaller the flower is (the more dainty and delicate it is) the more I am attracted to it.

Now, you must know, I am *not* a dainty and delicate woman!

Hmmmm, must be something about my alter-ego... :)

Spring in the City

Yesterday was a beautiful foggy morning so I got up and ran out to be a part of it. For two hours I wandered in my "urban oasis" city-park called, Forest Hill Park -- and it was magical.

Aside from the lovely misty and mysterious energy in the air, encouraged by the fog (and I'll have some photos of *that* beauty coming up soon), I was given an incredible treat of spending time with a herd of deer. I don't mean one or two deer -- I'm talking about a whole herd. I counted 10 of them.

I know this isn't such an amazing experience in and of itself, but I live in a first-ring suburb of a city of about 500,000 people. Forest Hill Park is only about five miles from the center of that city. It's a small space but somehow seems to have provided shelter so that a whole herd of deer could develop this spring.

I try not to think about where they all will go (since surely the space of Forest Hill Park is too small to contain them for long) as I bid the gentle creatures safe passage on their journeys and I remember the special morning I spent with them.

Psychedelilacs

I truly can not get enough of my Lilacs.

Each bud, budding flower or bloom is so unique and special to my eyes.

The immensity of their variations is like stars in the sky to me -- and I am left feeling such contentment and security in my amazement at the force behind their beauty...

Continuing Intrigue

Spring is so full of freshness and newness -- and I clearly find that inspiring and encouraging -- but I must say that aged flowers, which have somehow survived the winter, are also very intriguing to me.

These mature blooms may have their "best" days behind them but they are still as beautiful and unique as ever.

Lessons from a Bloom

Spring blooms are so graceful, humble, beautiful, mysterious, eager and optimistic -- even in the rain.

Safely Growing

This little bud appears so definite and self-assured of reaching greater heights, but, at the same time, she has tentacles (what else are they?) to clear her way and make sure the path is safe for growth.

The diminutive bud isn't just aimlessly or recklessly growing upward and outward but instead she has purpose and direction and intention in her growth and the tentacles are actually discovering the path first and then are leading the bloom to follow.

I'm thinking the bud will grow taller and stronger than she might have because of the "clearing of the path" and guidance that the exploratory tentacles provide.

The best part is that the tentacles are of the bloom's own making.

The Sweet Exhale

I am not a cold weather person. I like temperatures that begin around 75 and go up from there. Needless to say, winter is a difficult season for me.

When I take a walk these days and see the brilliant Forsythia bush in full bloom I nearly viscerally feel my whole spirit, and maybe my soul too, exhale. Certainly my body relaxes the tension it was holding during the winter months and I can tangibly sense the promise of summer (my favorite season) which I know, when I see the Forsythia, is certain to be coming along soon.

The funny thing is that I don't particularly like the color yellow -- and I don't feel any affinity with the Forsythia, but I can't deny that when she reaches her full bloom the relief I feel at knowing that the worst of the winter season is over is *so* sweet to me that Forsythia, for the time-being, is my most favorite of them all...

Seeking Out

As the suns becomes brighter and warmer with each passing day I feel like this tender little flower tentatively seeking out from her winter hiding place.

Quietly, and with anticipation, she is curious to see all the new-born and re-born wonders that the Spring might deliver...

Enjoying the Journey

I *adore* lilacs -- especially the purple ones.

Ever since I was a little girl purple was my favorite color and to see it so unabashedly expressed in nature, by the lilac bush, is exciting for me.

These purple lilac budlings will be bursting forth any day now and although I am waiting patiently for them to take their time in emerging, I am very much looking forward to when they do.

But even before the flowers do emerge I find the budlings to be just as intriguing as the sweet and beautiful flowers they will become. I enjoy looking closely at all the intricate patterns of the buds as they crowd next to each other making their space, and place, in the future bunch. Although I am eager for the bloomed flowers, I slow myself down to enjoy observing the budlings just as much.

It's another reminder for me to value the journey as much as the destination.

Well, finally Spring is beginning to arrive here, and not a moment too soon!

Although I try to remain stoic during the winter months I can't help but *exalt* when I see the first stirrings of new buds and growth. It is so reassuring when the cycle starts around again.

Quiet Beauty

Winter has always been a time of hibernation for me. It's cold, mostly dark and it takes too long for me to bundle up properly in order to go outside (I end up losing interest by the time I arrive at tying my scarf!)

But lately I've been so amazed and grateful for the beauty that is around me during the winter months. The beauty isn't what I typically like -- which is found in the bright colors of flowers or the rich greens of mature trees -- but rather I'm starting to see the beauty of winter in that it is understated and confident.

The quiet beauty of winter is found in lines and shadows and brilliant reflections of light. It's not a loud, 'proactive' beauty that proclaims itself but instead it is more subdued and 'reactive' and, really, it has nothing to prove. The beauty of winter simply 'is'.

As grow into myself, I'm finding that the sun illuminating the quiet stillness of a subdued and confident winter is a form of beauty that makes sense to me. It is winter's acceptance of itself and what it 'is' that puts it in a position to be enhanced and made beautiful by the sun.

Fingers Towards the Skies

A Tree

A tree beside the sandy
River-beach
Holds up its topmost boughs
Like fingers towards the skies
They cannot reach,
Earth-bound, heaven-amorous.

This is the soul of man.
Body and brain
Hungry for earth
our heavenly flight detain.

--Sri Aurobindo

The Patience of Growth

So how does this sprig of life do it? How does she maintain her composure while being nearly engulfed by blanketing snow? How does she maintain her tender layer of fuzz all over her needles while the snow around her attempts to overtake her?

This sprig is no more than three inches tall, yet she persists in making her way through the journey of the seasons. She doesn't seem to be concerned with how much or how fast she grows, just that she is still here and still strong as winter encroaches. She knows the cold season won't last forever and soon the warm sun will encourage her growth again...

In waiting patiently for spring to arrive, and not fully succumbing to the tendency of winter slumber, this elegant sprig of life is still growing -- in that she is learning patience.

The Glow of the Future

So I see this little twig sticking out of the snow, as me, at the halfway point (approximately!) of my life.

I have a choice at this juncture to see my twig self as facing to the left with the long shadow caused by the glowing sun as my past that is following me, never to be released....

....Or, I can see myself as facing to the right with the shadow that is caused by the glowing sun as my future that is long and looming ahead of me full of possibilities and journeys I've only begun to dream of envisioning.

Turning 40 is, for me, about making choices for myself and being more the mistress of my destiny than the victim of my past.

I know which way I choose to see my twig facing...

Learning to Sail

So I've been thinking about teamwork lately - and how I'm a better person when I'm in a team.

As an "only" child I grew up quite self-sufficient in entertaining myself and relying on myself and forming an opinion that "independence" was something I did by myself, for myself.

But as I move forward into my 40's I am seeing a new side of, "independence."

I am pleasantly surprised at how my "independence of spirit" is actually encouraged and enhanced by my connections to others. Wow! (This is sort of big for me).

With support and caring from others around me I can feel a distinct flow of energy that is actually working toward encouraging me to be my, "best self" and it helps me to move in the direction I want to move for my spirit.

Before, in the past, striving to be my, "best self" was something that I felt was a solitary endeavor -- that only "I" was able to achieve on my own (and the more lonely and stoic, the better!)

Connecting with others is still interesting for me but as I do more of it, and as I find the people I want to be connected with, I'm finding so much more energy to pursue the, "independence of my spirit" than when I was trying to sail without wind.