Mothers and Trees blowing in spring’s breeze
Everywhere I look in this season of endless beginnings, I see the old nurturing the young. Little flowers being coaxed out of bare branches, making me wonder what secrets were simmering in that dry old bark before she came out in bloom. It makes me re-imagine those gloomy winter days of death and desolation, to periods of intense inward reflection, preparation and churning for rebirth. It makes me reflect on the necessity of silence and death, introspection and hibernation, shedding and preparation for the seed of beauty to be nurtured and coaxed out.
There is another pervading thought that I can’t rid of, that is our roles and responsibilities as parents and our position in the cosmos. We go from a position where we don’t have control and other people (our parents) determine what direction we go; to the point where we are running our households and setting the example and foundation for the next generation. I wonder about this tree that I am, trying to coax out the seeds of tomorrow’s roots, am I strong enough to stand the winds and trials that will surely shake my limbs? I wonder of these roots of mine that have been constantly uprooted in search of new geographical climes to start over again; are they entrenched enough in these new soils to provide the necessary nutrients for my babies to thrive? I wonder too at this restlessness that afflicts me, this wanderlust that has been passed on to me from generations of seekers and traders, am I capable of providing that stability needed to create a sense of belonging or are my offspring doomed to embracing their strangeness and staking claims on many homes secretly knowing they will always be a/part?
My similarity to the rest of the universe ends there; for while the trees have no other recourse but to nurture, grow and thrive in perfect harmony with the cosmos, I am the only one foolish enough to will my existence against equilibrium’s gradient. While the rest of nature lives in a momentary sigh of praise and dies graciously to join the earth in nurturing more roots; I am the only one crazy enough to try and hold my breath and steel my will against the glow of conscience buried deep within. While the rest of creation sparkles with heart rending beauty giving me a glimpse of His eternal Mysteries, I am the only one ignoble enough to walk around resolutely with shut eyes and a slumbering heart; senseless and insensible to all calls.
My follies are compounded because it’s not just “me” that I have to worry about anymore; it is these impressionable souls in my care that are open to any imprints I “inflict” upon them. I hope the term “inflict” is non applicable in our case. I reflect on the consequences of the decisions I make today; of the lessons I impart through my unconscious acts; of the beauty that I will leave behind with them to propagate long after my body has become food for worms; and my soul enters another realm.
For as sure as winter is to come again; as sure as the leaves that shine with the glory of newness are to dance their colors back into earth; my body will soon join the processions of the dead and all will be left behind are echoes of whatever good I cultivated (or bad I dissipated) while alive in this moment that is gifted to me.
May we embrace what is beautiful, nurture what is good and live a life worthy of God’s sight and Memory (amin.)
