I am alone, seated on a vast expanse of green grass, my feet buried in the resilient textures of green, white, yellow, purple, a jumble of colors, lengths, textures. I feel close to the weed, a kinship of untamable wildness with our endless textures and colors, growing in rythm with the elements. The birds keep me company with their purrs, spring blesses all.
Before me rises the Jet d’Eau — a veil fit for the beautiful siren that is Lake Geneva. It feels like so long ago when we played underneath her flowing stream laughing against the thunderous plummets. I smile at what we must have looked liked — two children on a cold night dancing with the waters. Mosquitoes flutter around my legs and I smile to notice that I have lost the urge to kill.
Seasons come, seasons go, with the songs of birds whispering their encouragement, the rays of the sun her approval, and the green of the grass the mother’s guidance, I embrace happiness contemplating the mirror that is before me.
I hold space for my pain, I hold space for my joys, I hold space for sadness, I hold space for weakness, I hold space for strength. I hold space for all of me, because all are me. In the glow of the setting sun, I hold space.
Green grass, birds chirping, the lake glistening, the mountain shedding its last coats of frosted snow, I close my eyes and give gratitude for all that was, and for all that is, and for all that will be.
A single blade tells the story of nourishment of water, earth, nutrient, sun, bees, butterflies…so much goes into forming just one stem, one petal of each flower, how much more forms us, how much more are we the product of the magic of creation.
We have everything we need to blossom. We have everything we need to thrive. We have everything that we need to flourish.
Blessed to feel the lightness that the day ushers. Happy to know the quiet peace of truth. With intention, I let go of the last of the dead leaves to compost and fertilize the new sprouts of spring.
*Excerpt from ‘Red’s blossom’ — my book of musings