What seed have you buried, only to see blossom at some time so beyond the memory of when the seed was planted, perhaps you forgot that it was even there?

Estimates are that millions of trees in the world are planted unintentionally by squirrels who bury nuts and then forget them.

I have planted seeds of happiness and pain, of softness and light, seeds that needed ritual tending, seeds left unwatered yet were breaking, bursting, poking up out of the dirt-filled ground grasping for a sparkle of light to push, push, push up out of the deep and dark soil, soaking up that brilliant radiant light in the hopes to simply sustain.

To just be.

Have you tended your seeds lately? Do you plant those seeds with an overabundance of love that you trust will remain, as you dip your hands down deep in the soil, clay, mud and the muck?

Is it a chore perhaps, that you know you must tend to? Do you have a plan for those seeds, knowing what might/can transpire from seed to root to growth? Do you know where they need to be placed?

Do you sprinkle those seeds with a carefree-freedom-bliss ‘throw caution to the wind’ type style and believe that wherever they may land, is where they need to be?

I recently watched the Eric Clapton Crossroads DVD filmed at one of his guitar festivals. The stage was planted in the glorious city of wind (spores a-flying)—Chi-city, the Purple Pig toting, Toast restaurant-boasting, O’Leary farm-based (Mrs.O’leary left the lantern in the shed!), Penny Noodle drooling town of Chicago, Illinois in the summer of 2007.

Maybe I touched this DVD with my raw almond-greased fingers one too many times, or maybe I didn’t get the disc back into it’s rightful container and it had a lovely build up of inch thick dust-mite-dust after all of these years. Whatever the case, my error was presented to me with pause to the disc and a little three-word message that stated, and I quote, “skipping over damage.”

Words of wisdom from my soiled disc! Forget that time machine I wished for in my youth (and still do from time-to-time), forget the Wonder Woman-esque invisible plane I could fly from here to there fighting injustice and kicking the a#$ of every bad, evil person about to commit that not-so-nice act of not-so-niceness!

I want that! I want to “skip over the damage,” please and thanks.

I want the power to halt my beautiful green-thumbed friend’s garden from blooming half-germination. I want to skip over the all of the tragedy any of those near to me have ever endured. I want to freeze-frame, and be kind and rewind to the moment disease entered my mother’s beautiful being.

Skipping over damage? Isn’t that comparable, however, to skipping over life?

How does your garden bloom? Is there trial without error? Are there good seasons followed by bad? Are there blossoms with wilted vines, vines that gave their best attempt at seeking out the brilliance of light to sustain? Do I want to know what it is like to get it right the first time?

Where would I be without the wilts, attempts, failures, dust, half blossoms, half bloomed-blooms? Would my garden have ever grown into a garden worthy of stopping to smell the roses?

If your garden always blossoms the most perfect pumpkins and radiant radishes, do you ever even appreciate them? I can tell you that past mistakes often times grow the most luscious of flowers…out of the mud and deep muck, one never knows what may blossom.

“Memories are the seeds of rainbows sown by the wings of butterflies… blossoming in the meadows of our minds.” ~ My Dear Uncle Bob

I can tell you how I let my garden grow.

Maybe I wish I contained this simple knowledge from getting it right the first time, but maybe I do not. I fear that I do not contain these instructions from an all-knowing Martha Stewart-like wisdom, whilst remaining a perfect, vibrant-toned bloom.

I can only tell you from long hours sowing soil, watering, worrying, checking, testing, observing, hoping, wishing, throwing caution to the wind and getting it wrong and then trying to get it right once again.

What I wish to be true and what is true do not always align, but growth does not always equal alignment.

“Man prefers to believe what he prefers to be true.”

~ Francis Bacon

When sprouts appear, move to a sunny window. Inadequate light is a frequent cause of failure of young seedlings. Transplant into the garden when weather has settled and soil is warm. Provide rich soil and ample moisture. Do not disturb the roots in transplanting. Likes full sun in cooler seasons, partial shade in hotter weather. Whoa! All of that work for what? Perhaps the most beautiful blossoms imaginable.

Imagine.

I know that this garden not only symbolizes a beauty and a truth that has been captured and etched into the fertile soil for me to observe and absorb, but it is also nourishment. It is an offering of love.

How does your garden grow?

Can it grow without the tender hands of truth, acceptance, trial, work and error?

Yet an admittance of error can only be corrected/changed/blossomed with caring, nurturing, and full acceptance of what went wrong in the first place.

Those flowers are not only beautiful, they contain the power to heal. Medicinal purposes abound, stitching wounds from past mistakes.

How does your garden grow?

Do you honor your garden as a temple bloom? Bright red, lipstick pale pink, veil white with a yellow-like-the-sunshine glow that loves to brighten everything in its path with it’s luminance?

Plant those seeds, those vines that shine, green, huggable, fighting to see the light of day splendor. Illuminate and radiate. If need be, be like that squirrel and bury your treasure in the soil and clay.

Maybe it will be nourishment for the sciuridae (bothersome squirrel, the “which way should I go when trapped in the middle of the road” rodent), or maybe it will be forgotten and grow into a perennial woody plant that will exist long after you or I.

Exist. Be. Be in this moment. Bloom with what you are given, but then strive for even more bright light. Learn from the mistakes that were seeds planted knowingly or not, planted all the same, forgotten yet unforgettable.

I am not positive, but I guess that anytime you can see “the light” and anytime  there is growth, appreciation, acceptance, forgiveness, healing, learning and love, your garden thrives.

“Out of the mud and the muck, a golden lotus blossoms and grace awaits you.”

~ Deborah Adele

 

Daisy Tasch learns more and more about the beauty of yoga everyday from her bright and shining yoga students in the lovely little river town of Stillwater, Minnesota. She is grateful to be out of the mud and muck of 1981, 1987, 1991 and 2007, but expects that more muck is also just around the riverbend. She is grateful for light and wisdom of all her influential teachers from every background that will help her to be better equipped to blossom the next time. She loves her husband and child, yet daydreams still to this day of becoming a Whitesnake groupie (1987 wasn’t all bad)! Check out her website. 

 

Like elephant I’m not “Spiritual.” I just practice being a good person on Facebook.

~

Assistant Editor: Jennifer Townsend