I was seduced last fall by lovely, plump brown bulbs - and their promise of future beauty - peeking through the mesh of their packaging. I was anxious about some oral surgery, and the prospect of planting cheered and emboldened me. When it came time to plant, though, I was experiencing that disorganization of energy and presence that can be a stage of healing. Most of us are familiar, I think, with those times when our whole being is focused on particular healing, and very little resources remain for ordinary life. My mother would say, "It took the wind out of my sails." The bulbs stayed in their mesh.
I've been feeling "more myself" lately, and thought about those bulbs out in the shed, already sprouting green, and wondered if it was too late to put them in the ground. How late is too late? So, I looked it up, and learned that bulbs are not like seeds, and won't keep till next year. It's now or never! I took advantage of a bit of a thaw, and planted about a hundred this weekend. Lamenting the hard gold clay and rocks that are our natural ground here, and the brown oak leaves that I have yet to clear from the beds, I was happy to be in the garden. Birds called back and forth, and I heard spring in their songs, and felt inspired and hopeful.
Maybe we'll have daffodils and allium and paperwhites this spring. Maybe not! But, I woke this morning to a gentle rain, and joyfully felt as if Nature herself was in support of my intention for giving new life and beauty a chance.
As I worked, helping spirits nudged me to consider how we live in a time of "maybe too late," and the effects of that energetic field of thought.
They encouraged me to wonder about those aspirations and dreams within me that I may have - consciously or unconsciously - relegated to the "it's too late" dustbin of regret. What might it be like to dust them off, plant, fertilize, and water them now? What might it be like to give them a chance?
Open Heart Circle will explore the question, "Is it too late?" Saturday, March 2. What's in your heart, sending forth a hopeful shoot, seeking fertile ground and a bit of tending?