On the edge

After a few eventful wintery month I am back.  I have been meaning to post, but just haven't been able to take the step between thinking about it and doing it.  Sorry for the long break.  I will try and post more regularly.  That being said...on to the post...

Atlanta is swooning with the blooms of the peach, pear, cherry, red bud, and magnolia.  Tiny leaves are unfurling left and right.  Something hopeful about all those new beginnings.  The simple cycles and natural patterns this spring are imbued with joy for me.  On the edge of new beginnings myself the buds remind me that the world holds beauty hidden under the ground or behind the sharp thick bark of an old peach tree.  Kept safe from the harshness of winter just waiting for the warmth to coax it out.  A metaphor for human emotion.  During the hardest trials sometime without knowing we shut down and harden off.  So as to not be torn apart by the ache.  However, just when you think that perhaps all is lost.  Slowly the warmth of new perspectives opens us up.  New buds of hope begin to blossom on the tendrils of our heart.  The thick layers we have erected to protect the tender parts start to fall away and before we realize what's truly happening our hearts are in full bloom. 

Lettuce and Arugula

Fully gripped by the stress caused by unemployment, injury, and general financial duress I was wandering around my garden when noticed that some seeds I had planted in the fall had sprouted in the warm spring weather.  A whole mess of tiny lettuce, arugula, and kale.  They were crowded and growing in a part of the garden I had wanted to use for other plants this spring.  So I carefully dug them all up and one by one replanted them.  After I did this I thought I should take a look at my compost pile.  Turning the pile over I saw something that sparked a great reverence in me for the simple and yet beautifully orchestrated patterns of the natural world.  What had been a year and half of kitchen scraps was now the richest deepest dark compost.  It was brilliant!  My brain of course knew that this is how composting works and this was not my first time to turn over a compost pile, but this time the simple fact that this is how everything works struck me so deeply.  I was overwhelmed with a feeling of joy and connection.  I am just a part of this grand chain that can turn my scraps back into dirt rich with nutrients to feed the new seedlings.  There are so many of these patterns and cycles at work that we are a part of, but yet tend to over look or forget about.  Just like the poem I felt compelled to tattoo on my body written by John O'donohue.

Kale and Red Onions

from the moment of your beginning through all days and climates of mood and dream, the music of your heart has never stopped. sending its rhythm along vein and bone, it has held you alive and present.

Garlic

Even when we forget.   When we are caught in the mire of our fears and doubts.   Under the surface everywhere there is a music...a rhythm...a cycle keeping us alive.   We are a part of a grand and complex tune.   

Oh to feel small and yet cradled by the very understanding that I am just a part.   A note on the bar of this endless composition.