A sojourn among the wildflowers is what my soul needs in regular doses, down low among the “weeds”
where time does not stand still, but the world does, for nothing exists in the moment except for us,
and no greater beauty can there be than in the nonmanhandled, outside-the-garden-lines seed that blooms so gracefully, silently defying, yet exuding pure peace;
that peace transfers into my essence as I listen with my soul to the whispered sapience,
no lesson or story captivates my interest more than what the petals transmit,
and to think how often it goes unnoticed – underfoot, sole-crushed, disregarded – the natural therapy for inner balance.
If you happen to have the interest, I’ll share with you what was imparted on this Tuesday morning in my own backyard during my daily sojourn
among the wildflowers….
I wish to simply be the color in your gray, to open your heart to seeing every season has new days, and there always exists little blessings sent personally your way…
We all at times lose focus as the world becomes tear-blurred; that’s why we were given each other to lean on, lend strength, stay near.
When we get closer through the growing trust, we become less guarded and show the rest of us, the complexities, the other ways through the protective shield, the scars, the webs, the truths,
and we find, though all unique, we are the same in our sufferings,
made so we take turns with it, return to the circle of falls and lifts.
I am here to share my hues, overflowing now, but once like you.
And when you come into fuller bloom, pay it forward so others may too become imbued.
Don’t think my sunny outlook comes from a lifetime of easy; I’ve walked through the dark wood and from depression’s cliff, still find myself sometimes clinging.
I’ve cried my share of flash floods, drowned several lives in the deep, survived decades of verbal abuse, spent my time vowed and banded to Lonely.
I’ve been there and back, having spent most of my life there, but through it all, I kept the marker on where my dreams were buried,
inside a humble chest beneath the patch of wildflowers; I watched the live hues grow as the turpentine slowly stripped my own colors.
But the spirit, like pain, is buried deep, like music in the heart, cannot be reaped by any other, and perhaps the tears upon those wounds are the rain needed to combine with the light of the soul in that long, desolate season,
and we finally figure out how to use that manure to fertilize our strength and desire, and the sprouts from within finally catch fire and rise up to inspire, and the wildflowers burst from that buried chest, breaking the lock from the inside, having had enough of that old non-life.
So when I see all that I now see in each bloom, know I, too, like you, am the seed, the petals, the stem, the story, the roots.
This one’s for a friend. For my son. For my student. For you. For me.
We all stumble.
Sometimes merely a trip,
sometimes down a seemingly
endless, dark abyss.
We all get lost.
Sometimes we find our way,
sometimes indefinitely
in the same spot,
we remain.
We all face obstacles.
Sometimes they lift,
sometimes they seem
utterly hopeless.
(Photo by my son)
We all lose sight
of the beauty within.
Sometimes a mirror lies,
sometimes a “friend.”
We all are small.
Sometimes toward Him
we feel the pull,
sometimes we feel
invisible.
But…
The thing about a hole,
even one without a bottom,
is that there is always a top
so the direction is clear: up.
A loved one will be by soon
to lower the rope.
It is up to you
to hang
onto that hope.
And if no one comes,
the direction is still the answer:
He is always there.
He hears your prayers.
Sometimes the hole
was put there on purpose,
the time in it ironically necessary
for advancement.
Sometimes you have the tools already
and simply need to begin the ascent,
for sometimes it is up to you
to get to that ground-level summit.
He already knows you can do it.
Sometimes the self-help in itself
is the only missing ingredient.
The last thing about a hole
is that you never forget
how much space
what is missing inside
takes up,
and you will feel
so much fuller
than any other
when it gets filled up.
We all get lost
in different forests,
for no one ever
seems to be around,
endless looping trails
we wearily trudge,
the darkness of the deep wood
making the light
but a teaser,
the source unable
to ever be found.
The key to getting out
is to keep moving
in new directions;
the path worn
by our own feet
is the very one
that sinks us
into the false belief
that there is no other way.
Sometimes we even stop
trekking altogether
and set up camp
in one spot,
a surefire way
to eliminate
a destination
is to not move
at all.
The light is ever-shining,
day and night;
we are never truly left
in the dark,
for He gave us
both sun and moon
as an eternal spark,
and to keep
our whispered dreams lit,
the stars.
Obstacles work
in similar fashion,
a mountain before you
threatening to spew
lava and ashes.
Obstacles are meant to be
overcome,
sometimes the threat
intentionally sent
from Satan himself
to paralyze you with fear;
the paradise on the other side,
he tries to keep you
from getting any nearer.
But the mountain is harmless.
You can waste time and effort
attempting to go around it,
but the view from the top
is worth it,
so I highly recommend
climbing it.
(Photo by my daughter)
And when you reach the top,
you get to see
that past in better perspective
in which you felt trapped
before turning back
and beginning the adventure
of what comes next,
the future not clear,
but the lush panoramic
welcomes your fresh
starting steps.
When it comes to sight
to see the beauty within,
if you don’t know it yet,
then you need to start
with dispelling the myths
that usually come
from another’s words
or simply judging yourself
by warped societally-produced standards.
Two remedies I have found to be effective.
The first: submerse yourself
in the positive affirmations
that come from someone else
until those whispers
drown out
the past-yelled lies
and even the ones
in your own eyes
you cast upon yourself.
They are false.
You will, in time,
come to love
yourself.
In the meantime,
you can dispel
those warped society beauty-standards,
for you were created
with love and purpose,
precisely as God intended,
every detail;
there are no imperfections.
Do what you can
to honor
the body your soul
was given;
it is the temple
of the Holy Spirit within.
We are, indeed, all small.
It is meant to fill us with awe,
to remind us we are part
of something so much grander
than we could ever imagine,
a divine plan.
We are never alone,
the presence of a higher power
is around us all
so when we begin to feel
undetectable,
when our “lives”
seem the end of the world,
our perspective
of those big problems
should dissolve some
to know
it is much of that
that is insignificant
in the grand scheme of things.
We are embraced
in the loving arms
of Mother Nature,
the personification
of the natural world
gifted by our Creator.
We are all interconnected,
each an essential thread
of something in the making,
a much larger picture
guided by a divine hand.
The key component
in all of these woes
is belief in a higher power;
it is essential for faith
and hope.
You are never
alone.
The direction is up,
always the Guiding Light
home.
When we give up,
we give in
to the doubt
of His very personal plan
for each of us.
Only He knows what lies ahead,
and it often lies in
our own hands,
for He gave us free will
and intellect and talents,
throws us curve balls
like holes and mountains
not to test us,
I don’t think,
but for our own good
to steer us
to challenge us
to shake us
to wake us
to become all that He knows
we can.
I am His child.
I will always
trust His plan.
Especially in the times
I get frustrated
because I just don’t
understand.
We are not meant to
until we are,
and that revelation
may only be revealed
in the language of
stars.
“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. (Jeremiah 29:11)
Laura Denise 