Monday, December 21, 2009

Solstice Blossoming

My Amaryllis is blooming, and I pray that it is a foretaste of the blooming that I will soon do myself. I have patiently waited and watched and nourished it while the bulb sat until I could find the right pot to plant it in; while it waited in the darkness of the earth to know that the time was ripe to grow tall; while it sent out it's single strong stem; as the bud grew fat with promise. I have waited to know the beauty of this flower, this particular plant, until the time was right.
I see the lessons for my own life - that I must wait patiently while I am transplanted from a pot that was too small for me to the place where I will next be able to grow and thrive. I must continue to wait patiently as that place is prepared for me, the proper hole dug deep into the soil, amended with the proper nutrients and compost (this is especially important, because improperly prepared compost can burn a plant just as the difficult lessons in our lives burn and hurt us even as they give us the things we need to learn in order to be our best). When my new place is ready, I will be transplanted and my roots will find fresh nutriment and I will be able to thrive once again. I will be patient as my roots send out new rootlets and I become established in my place. I will soon be prepared to send out new stalks, laden with heavy blossoms. I will bloom.
It is difficult to be in this time of waiting. I have been uprooted, and am still waiting for my new home. I have a choice, though. I can be like some of my succulents, who require a time of hardening off before they can be rooted to start new bushes and who can survive on very little as they wait. Or, I can be like many plants that, if they wait too long for a new home, wilt quickly and may never recover. I choose to be like the hardier plants, the ones who wait patiently and transplant well. I choose to hold tight to the knowledge that my new place is nearly ready for me and that I will soon have a new well of nourishment with which to supplement my own inner supplies.
I will bloom again.

1 comment:

Rebecca Johnson said...

Simply beautiful, Sulwyn. I know that your blooming will be much more beautiful even than that of the flower that is pictured. Ah, darkness, waiting. In between times. Times of great wisdom. The longest night is over. Today there is new light.