Honouring our pace.

I bought a bougainvillea plant with its flowers last summer. I brought it indoors and sheltered it from freezing temperatures over the winter. My mom told me how to care for it, said it might flower again in the summer. I waited patiently as months passed. Watched its leaves fall. Saw it go into a deep sleep indoors. Then I took it out again late spring. And I waited patiently. No sign of flowers, just gorgeous green coming in one by one. I was content. The plant was awake again and thriving. Then to my surprise, a few weeks ago, I saw flowers coming through. The joy of witnessing this all. My appreciation for this simple miracle of life that I don’t take for granted.

There’s a metaphor here somewhere for this. Not in the mood to get into it. But you catch my drift right?

It’s been a turbulent road for all of us. For some more than others. There are those of us that share our grief. There are those of us that swallow it. Either way, it has been a perpetual season of loss. And we are all finding our own way through these murky waters.

I want to write again. There is an ocean of poems inside me. I make excuses by prioritizing other things. But here’s the truth – I am afraid of the emotional intensity. The journey of a poem always takes me to shadows before blossoming into flowers. I am putting off that journey right now, not yet ready for my flowers. But the time will come, it will. For now, there is urgency for gentleness. There is healing in kindness to self, in honoring one’s pace. This is big learning for me.

Sending care to you and yours. I hope you are finding true ease during these turbulent times.

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