As I read this piece (and I enjoy reading so many of these offering!) I could not help but think of all the plants that don’t even make it.
As a gardener and fan of permaculture, I witness so many that never flourish. Some actually end up in the compost, to help other plants. Some get flooded out or dry to dust. Some never get to germination Nate at all.
Often I think my practice in mindful living is such a privilege. I have not been snuffed out by wildfires, floods or worse so far. Nor have I had a very unfortunate birth or been hit by a fast moving vehicle.
This gives me the privilege to even talk about such esoteric subjects. I am one ‘who practices ‘like my hair were on fire.’ I must be mindful to live with the unexpected, go with the flow of uncertainty and trust that God has all my lessons in hand. I really try to learn by them all.
But life is a teetering balance for me, on my own. Old age looms, provisions for living are minimal, grandchildren grow in uncertain times, and what energy I have to give to better the world, or myself, is minimal at the end of a physically demanding work day.
And yet, I have so much compared to other parts of the world. My flowers are blooming and some would say I am also. I have a house I have rebuilt myself, a family that care about each other, lots of friends who I can really count on and talk to, and I can be warm in the harsh parts of winter.
I can even take time for meditation each morning over my cup of fair trade, organic and wood fired coffee. Such privilege is only for the blooms that actually make it.
What about those that slip through the cracks? Now that is where I direct my prayers and hold gratitude for my fortunate birth.
On Jun 13, 2024 Fiona wrote :