Tiny specks scatter on the damp earth; anticipated, counted, loved. I waited for weeks for the seed catalog to arrive, picked the prettiest flowers, and eagerly watched my mailbox for the envelopes full of potential: blue and orange poppies, chamomile perfect for a teacup or a vase, and kale that grows into a tree. Green-purple Echinacea that nourishes the body and the eyes. And Sunflowers in red, mustard, and black.
It’s the winter solstice, a good time to plant seeds. The days have been getting shorter until now, but that’s all about to change. Last year’s harvest has nourished us enough, and there’s even more grains now to get an early start on next year’s. For now, we have to look ahead with hope in order to be ready for the spring, casting bets on tiny dots that just might make a cornucopia of color and noms. For now, we find the strength to make it to tomorrow, when the light returns. For now, we’re burning bits of last year’s harvest to keep us warm.
Each time I watch the miracle of seeds germinating, I’m a grade school boy again, deep in wonder about how it all happens. It still feels like magic when they grow fungal fuzz, bust open with the winter rains, and begin their climb into the sky. What gumption they have, delicate whisps with such lofty aspiration! And all from a poppy seed that came from a very beautiful, very dead flower.
Going from that dark, safe, small space underground out into the light is a real challenge. Not only does the seed have to find the oomph to reach the surface to survive, breathe, and tap into the buzz happening just above, but it needs to access the blueprint in its soul for how to “do the thing.” How on earth can a scattered speck like that gather its senses, and draw in all the resources it needs to pop into the elongating blazes from the sun?
Not just the last few months, but also the last few years have been a dark time for me, for Us. I’ve gone deeper and downward more than ever, getting comfortable in obscurity. There were times I have had to just be, a thing, an Everything Bagel topping. But I have fallen in on fertile ground here, watered with the love of others, and nourished from the community around me. I have gotten into the soil, gone foraging for water, and made a few mistakes to learn from. And it seems to be time to burst forth, with new confidence that now is the time to be brave; to grow… up. Now is the time to be dangerous.
For me and you, I’m glad we made it through another darkening. Now that the days are getting brighter, which direction are you gonna grow? How high? How deep? Have you fixed your gaze skyward?
What might we have to do to protect ourselves and thrive in the blazing world out there?
Get ready for something new! Here comes the sun!
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