In the depth of winter I finally learned that within me there
lay an invincible summer. Albert Camus
It’s been a time of change and loss……you know, life doing its thing. As I face the possibilities and inevitabilities being worked out in my life, I often crave control and certainty. At the same time, I know there is really very little within in my control and very little of which I can be certain.
Loss is a two-headed creature. Along with the sadness, there is value. There’s a lesson included or an opening for a greater good. Some of us fight it with all we’ve got; others are more able to surrender to it. I think they are the lucky ones.
Loss etches our hearts as surely as the years carve lines on our faces. There is beauty in both because an etched heart experiences life more consciously than does the heart more gently touched. We begin our lives with unlimited potential for joy and positive outcomes. We don’t understand the idea of rare or precious; that awareness comes with life and loss – the idea of savoring our moments because they can be so fleeting, ephemeral by nature or design. Loss opens that door for us.
As I explore my garden in the early spring, it awakens my heart to see all the ordinary little miracles that reveal themselves each year – the expected and the serendipitous. It proves the continuity at the root of my comfort, the connection of stimulus to response, my relationship to the earth. I suppose you could say the same for the mountains or the ocean, eternal and continuous. But my hands and my imagination are not at work there – it is only in my garden that I am reflected so clearly. It’s not about each leaf and flower – they are unique and dependable but ephemeral. It’s when I zoom out and consider the whole rather than the parts that I see it; the continuity is there for me – the place of comfort and certainty.
Life really does go on and nowhere do I see that more than in my garden.