It’s Thursday. Outside the rain is washing away all of the grime from many yesterdays. I sit in the afternoon light in a room surrounded by things I’ve collected, thrifted, found, bought, or was gifted. And a window full of growing plants. The green Peace Plant by the window is absolutely thriving and it seems that suddenly there are three beautiful white blooms where none had been just a minute ago. And it is all so beautiful and so tragic at the same time that I was nearly brought to tears.
Because I almost missed it. Even though I’ve carefully thought through the layout of this room. And delicately arranged the pieces of nostalgia around this room and spent so many moments in every time of day in this room… I’ve hardly noticed the blooms. Behind the thick white shield of a petal is a an intricate stamen. Where the petal is smooth and wide the stamen is cylindrical, stalky and sharp. Now just how did that appear? And when? And where was I??
It took my breath away how absent I recently must have been to have missed it’s growth. I don’t want to miss any more of the special moments that make up something as magical as the forming of new life.
And it made me think of daily life. I want to notice the pleasing colors, aromas, textures, sounds and feelings that tumble into my experience and float on by. I want to notice how my face (gracefully) changes with age, how my hands grow more skillful with time, my mind more patient with practice. I want to notice the love in my heart expand wider and deeper for those I love and for those before whom I find only obstacles to love.
I want to be. Here. Now. With life. As it blooms.