Abstract Essays, Cultured Narratives

Written July 16th, 2014.

You are a seed.You have been planted in the core of this ground and you are spreading your roots, making your way up through the soil, up from the Earth, like you know where you need to go. Maybe the wind has carried you a great distance to get you where you are now: in the present.  

I almost didn’t come. But the wind had managed to carry me to this sacred place surrounded by trees and a gray sky from all the way across the ocean in just over twenty-four hours. Glancing up at the gray sky that was threatening to rain, I deeply inhaled the crisp, fresh air. Merida’s smoggy, smelly skies were already long gone memories. I was back home, back to the soil of which I had originally blossomed… but something was different. I could feel something changing. It was going to be a positive change, but I was the only one who knew that. No one else would ever look at me the same…

 The seed does not know competition. Its life is not bound by outside influences. The seed cannot foresee the future, but it has a vision. You are blooming, blossoming in that place where only you know you need to be.

This voice had a forceful impact, as if it were the wind.

With my body pressed against the Earth in Child’s Pose, I felt rooted. I was grounded. I was a seed being watered by the rain that so coincidentally happened to be falling, ever so gently. It did not pour on us. We did not have to leave. We were where we needed to be; eight people on the sixteenth of July, doing yoga in a grassy secluded area in the park surrounded by trees.

But you are not the only seed. You were placed amongst thousands of other seeds, each sprouting in different places. But you bring your own uniqueness up from the soil, your own unique light.

And as I rose from the the ground, I blossomed into that red wildflower I picked on the hill earlier that day. I was carried across the Gulf of Mexico, had seen how the jungle’s tropical plants thrive,  and now had come all the way back to bloom again– albeit a harsher climate. This challenge was one that I was more willing to fight now.

There was no rain the rest of the session.

Because the seed cannot hear, it is able to grow upward into something better than it was, listening only to its core: the heart of the seed. We bring our hands to that heart center, knowing that this is the only place to begin our growth. We bow, bringing ourselves to respect that core: the heart.

I smiled at these words. Our movements were those of seeds sprouting roots, struggling to break through the comfort of the soil we had become so accustomed to.

The seed cannot foresee the future, but it has a vision.

After becoming fully awakened from my trance state, I walked to the water and submerged my feet, becoming one with the land. I then walked further to the dock, where I sat down, barefoot, with my knees against my chest. I watched the gentle waves all across the deep blue. I saw green trees on the other side. I became a part of those waves; I could feel myself rolling with them.

When I stood up, after an unknown period of time, I floated towards those green trees on the other side, barefoot. Once I reached the green trees, having no particular destination in mind, I walked even further, because time was all I had. But time didn’t matter.


2 thoughts on “Wildflower

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