Lessons from Flowers
I watched this tulip grow from barely poking her leaves out of the ground to letting go of her last petal.
It didn’t take me long to realize she doesn’t pay attention to calendars or deadlines. There isn’t concern about being ready at a certain time. She shows up when she’s ready and not a moment sooner. She’s comfortable with the almost but not yet. She listens to her inner knowing and lets that guide her.
She knows when it is the right time to bloom. She’s not abiding by anyone’s standards — only her own.
One morning she stood tall. She looked confident. The next day when I stepped outside with the dogs, I glanced over and saw her drooping over. Oh sweet thing, it’s okay. It’ll warm up later. Hang in there.
We went from spring-like temps one week back into freezing temps the next. It felt like we were all being tossed about, tulips included.
This tulip knows what it’s like to live in the midst —
she doesn’t have any other choice. She can’t crawl inside and get cozy under a blanket. She has to stay with it — she has to stay present in the cold night air. She does know how to care for herself in ways I may never know.
As time passed I watched her slowly let the petals go. Part of me was sad to see her in this state. Part of me celebrated that she lets go of what she no longer needs.
There are days I feel like this tulip. Living in the midst of a global pandemic has me dropping petals left and right: expectations of myself, expectations from others, productivity, feelings of unworthiness.
I may come out looking a bit tattered and worn, but this tulip shows me there’s even beauty in the letting go.
Not long after the last petals were dropped from the tulip, the irises began showing signs of blooming soon. Day after day they were waiting and then overnight, they opened up bright and purple.
They didn’t hide when it rained — no, they let the rain droplets magnify their beauty.
They didn’t yell when the dog ran through their little plot of land — no, they bounced too and fro, remaining firm in their own location.
Why can’t the blooms last longer? The beauty comes and goes so quickly.
I tended to this peony bush for over five years… five years! When I first planted the start I took from my friend’s yard, I thought the front flower bed would be a good place for her to live. I waited a year and she barely grew — still small and no chance of blossoms. The following spring I discovered that the previous owner(s) were very scared of weeds. So scared that they put down layers and layers and layers of paper and plastic to block the weeds. In doing so, I realized that the little peony start had nowhere to root properly.
I ended up pulling up all of those barriers, but eventually decided to move her to another spot. I was so excited when I saw her growing bigger leaves and stronger stems. However, it wasn’t long before one of our dogs took the corner too sharply and ran her over.
Another year gone.
Finally this year I knew what I had to do. I put a fence around her and wouldn’t you know, she grew even bigger! She had four buds and I couldn’t wait to see them!
Until… there was a frost warning and I was scared to lose her and in the process of covering her, one of the buds broke off. Then, in all his excitement, my dog’s wagging tail whipped off another bud. Only two left…
I was out of town visiting my nieces who I hadn’t seen since Thanksgiving and wouldn’t you know… those two remaining buds opened up and I wasn’t there to see it happen. All that work and I didn’t get to see the buds open to their full beauty. I was disappointed, but also happy to know they didn’t think I was important enough to wait for — they knew it was time and they went for it.
Each one of these flowers taught me lessons about life, about myself, about what it means to pay attention. They taught me about being present and the fast pace of life.
Just three plants in my yard and look how much I learned and relearned. There are millions of plants all over this world. Hundreds and thousands near you, I’m sure. What do the plants close to you have to teach you today and in the weeks to come? I suspect that if you pay attention to the ordinary, you’ll discover the extraordinary.