A few days ago my feet were bare, my jacket forgotten, a late February winter anomaly. Birds foraged for fun not need, and daffodils lured from slumber stretched, budded, and burst with optimistic color.
In a hormonal flash Mother Nature’s hands fisted on birthing hips and storm clouds pushed against the blue sky painting over the cheerful with a loaded brush of gray.
Snow fell... confection flurries then portly flakes forcing the region beneath a heavy blanket of pristine, unblemished, stillness.
I listened to the growl of the wind. A torrent force raced along the hollow between neighboring hills. The invisible gush followed the path of the valley’s winding stream. A vibrating screech rose as the air exploited narrow passages through frozen twigs and fragile shoots on trees that thought spring had come.
Fallen snow lost its moisture and became airborne, taking flight to drift and shift like desert sand. A surge of blinding and blending white blurred what is, what was, and would become.
Stillness is where patience lives...waiting for the blending and blurring to subside and the becoming to occur.
Months ago I had collected dozens of acorns with a dream of turning my grass yard into a wooded lot. The idea of making my own forest was incredible until visions of fall when countless leaves would drift to the earth.
Raking...another item on my task list...
No thanks, I can drive to the woods.
Realistically I didn’t want to grow dozens of trees so I opted to plant twelve and tucked the acorns into ice cream tubs filled with fresh soil.
Three containers, three kernels each and the final three chunks of possibility found beds in three individual flower pots.
My three-in-a-pot insurance policy helps skew my success/failure/disappointment ratio. Surely one of three nuts can follow nature’s design and successfully germinate.
Freshly sewn soil dampened and placed in the living room bay window for daily sunshine.
Not quite out of sight or mind~ TRUTH the sleeping nuggets best shot is for me to leave them alone.
Growing is stressful! ~ Direct sun ~ indirect sun ~ water too little ~ water too much ~ to fertilize or not to fertilize ~ curious puppies and well meaning family tenders ~ infinite factors beyond my control.
Months pass... doubt and criticism crawl through the soil like earthworms. Should I have added worms? Perhaps the acorns should have had an opportunity to dry out, or maybe if I’d stuck them in the refrigerator to simulate winter, or mindfully held them tight while visualizing growth.
What a difference a day makes.
Passing the window, my eye is drawn to an ice cream tub. A tiny green shoot has
pushed through the dry dirt. Immediately I rush to the kitchen and fill the pitcher with water...When was the last time I dribbled moisture over the soil?
I splash all the containers and worry washes over me as the liquid soaks in. Too much? The nuggets will rot before they have a chance to fully become trees.
Every day I see visible change. The plant unfurls and stretches, vibrant green leaves expand and absorb the sunshine.
However day after day no other plants arrive. “One of twelve,” I mutter while adding water to the containers with less and less care.
My attitude proclaims One miracle isn’t sufficient.
I stand in the face of the magic and I’m looking around for an adjustment. Wanting more or less, wishing for bigger or smaller, seeking happier or greater contentment.
Three weeks later the soil moved and the next little acorn of possibility pushed from its cozy resting place, then another, and another shoot joins the party.
Lovely, sweet, fragile... all this time working out of view.
Miracles of Possibility just beneath the surface.
Eight of twelve marvels stand in my window today and yet...
I frown at the three small pots. The dirt unruffled, shows no sign of pending eruption.
I gaze through the window, the blinding light of day rebounding over the fresh snow.
A lesson in stillness... waiting for the blending and blurring to subside and the becoming to occur.
Parts of my growth are also stuck in the stillness.
Soil and nourishment introduced at different points in my life wasn’t welcomed or wasn’t as tasty as I thought it should be. The sunlight heating my heart was too hot or too shaded.
I recall the frowns and frustrations from those doing the tending as they nudged me toward good-for-me-growth. Urging an awakening in their time not mine.
Until I’m ready... for the magic to happen, the elements to blend, the nut to fracture, to unfurl, grow, stretch, reach, and break through the soil.
Until I’m ready... face lifted, heart open, and the magic...Oh the magic.
Take your seat and watch with pride all you are Becoming.
Embrace the miracle in your growing. Marvel at the magic as your roots to grip the earth beneath you. Feel the wind whistling through the branches even when the frigid storms of life coat you fragile new shoots of growth with ice and snow.
Tomorrow the sun will offer a mild warming or the heat of challenge... the next day may offer a gentle shower or a flooding rain.
Good, bad, triumph, tragedy, all impact the miracle of your Becoming and like an oak tree you'll produce acorns of possibility. A few may be carried to a pot of soil and given the opportunity to grow in a new and different way.
Seasons of Life, Seasons of Growth...the cycle continues and continues...
Profound intuitive satisfaction washes over me and I return to the bay window to study my single pots of nothing happening.
I can’t help myself... I gently scrape the soil to uncover the problem ~maybe they don’t want to be alone? Friends, nugget buddies, to go through the process with. I could move them to a big container... Translation ~ growth on my timeline.
Instead I discover miracles and wonder just beneath the surface...a teeny tiny shoot is breaking through the acorn's shell.
Late to the party but arriving just the same. Not unlike my womanly wisdom, arriving fashionably late and right on time.
I replace the soil with a smile and offer each individual pot a bit of refreshment.
Take your time, nugget.
Grow as you need to, when you need to, with the ingredients that enrich and fulfill you.
I look forward to meeting you whenever you’re ready to push through the soil and stretch.
I’ll wait patiently and enjoy watching what a difference each day makes.
Chat soon ~ Laura
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