one by one…

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One by one,

we bloom.

Each on a

timetable

which bears

no relation to

the rest.

One by one,

we bloom.

~ clg ~

A leap in the dark…

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All growth is a leap in the dark,
a spontaneous unpremeditated act
without benefit of experience.

~ Henry Miller ~

She who reconciles…

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She who reconciles the ill-matched threads
Of her life, and weaves them gratefully
Into a single cloth –

It’s she who drives the loudmouths from the hall
And clears it for a different celebration.

~ Rilke ~

Blooming…

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It’s so clear that you have to cherish everyone.

I think that’s what I get from these older black women,

every soul is to be cherished,

that every flower is to bloom.

~ Alice Walker ~

The treasure you seek…

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The cave you fear to enter holds the treasure you seek. ~ Joseph Campbell

And how often have I kept myself from what I really want by believing in my fear more than my love of what was held in that cave?

I wonder if this rose thinks about that – if maybe it shouldn’t bloom any bigger because, you know, that leaf is right there… and you wouldn’t want to disturb the leaf, or hurt it’s feelings now, would you?

Really. We do that. Silly as it seems, we do.

So. Look around. See if those obstacles in your way are real, or if, perhaps, they are as thin and insubstantial as what is holding that rose back.

There is room for you, and for all you love.

Honest. Promise. There is.

The second blooming…

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I have enjoyed greatly the second blooming that comes

when you finish the life of the emotions and of personal relations;

and suddenly find – at the age of fifty, say –

that a whole new life has opened before you,

filled with things you can think about, study, or read about…

it is as if a fresh sap of ideas and thoughts was rising in you.

~ Agatha Christie ~

It must be magic, this fifty year old mark. With my half century old eyes, I look at these peonies and see so much more beauty in the blowsy, half-spent open bloom than in that closely held bud. In it’s tightness, the bud is closer to perfect, I suppose, and certainly brighter in color. The barely there pink of the full flower is a bit washed out, yes. It does, at first glance, pale in comparison.

Take a closer look, though. Those uneven layers of petals stack up in a way that creates a soft cushion for those buds to rest on – much as my grandmother was my “favorite pillow” when I was a little girl. They catch the raindrops in a way that allows each one to be seen – just as our older egos are happy to allow younger colleagues to shine in the spotlight. And in a bowl, they float beautifully, unbothered by the ants that crawl about, fluffing them to their full potential – our individual “ants” vary, of course, but with age, those little irritants are much more welcomed. We know they are here to help us grow.

And then, in random spots, you can still see a streak of brilliant color. The old girl still has some tricks in her! There is more to be seen in those depths, more than you can see in a quick glance.

So yes, Agatha, there is an opening up of new life, in this second blooming. And I, for one, wouldn’t trade it for the world.

only for a matter of days…

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This extraordinary cluster of blooms shows up on my wisteria tree only for a matter of days.

It’s almost magical – the beauty, the structure, the way it bobs in the breeze. And then it’s gone.

It comes and it goes, leaving only a memory – and yet it is it’s own integral part of life.

Much like you, my friend. And much like me.

We are all welcome here, for a time.

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