Fear Of The Full Bloom

Transcript:

I went outside this morning, and one of my roses was in full bloom—or maybe not. She might have more blooming to do. I harvest my roses to dry and make medicines, picking them before they begin to wilt. I try to time it just right. I was at my sister's garden, and her roses were so big, so bold. She had wilting roses, budding roses, and blooming roses on her bushes. Some looked scraggly with brown edges, while others were in technicolor. I wondered, why don’t my roses bloom that big, and how can she not harvest hers? Doesn’t she know she’s wasting all that good medicine?

I laughed at myself for how long I’ve had these thoughts. To each their own, I thought. That’s her business. As for the bigger roses, I chalked it up to better soil, more attention, and different varieties. Never once did I imagine it could be because I don’t let my roses reach full bloom. I’m so fearful they’ll wilt before I can harvest them, and what a waste that would be.

Recently, since I’ve been sister-gardening with this partner, I came home one day after spending time with her roses and noticed I had budding roses. My initial thought was, "Oooo, more roses for medicine!" However, each morning as I greeted my roses, the desire to pick them lessened. I kept feeling, "Let them bloom. See how big and expansive they want to be."

I noticed the fear of their fading wasn’t as strong. The drive to make medicine was being replaced by the medicine they were offering just as they were. There was one rose in particular that kept calling me each day to just watch her open. I have to admit, there were times when I wanted to pluck her, but I resisted and simply allowed myself to enjoy her deepening color and stronger fragrance. Each morning, she drew me closer into her blooming.

This particular morning, I was like, "Holy crap! Look how big her bloom is. She’s huge, just like my sister’s garden’s roses." I started sobbing. I kept saying, "I’m so sorry I’ve kept you from blooming fully." The grief of controlling so many blooms, because I was afraid of what the full bloom would mean, was heartbreaking. Thank Goddess, my heart was breaking. It needed to crack open. The tears just flowed.

There’s no conclusion here because I’m still experiencing her teachings. There’s just accepting her invitation to be with her and be with what’s true. I was with her as a bud, and now I’m with her in her blooming. I will continue to greet her each morning and be with whatever shows up.

I do know, thus far, she’s showing me how to not fear the full bloom. She’s reminding me it’s okay to not control the outcome and to stay open to the possibilities of what’s to come. She’s showing me how to ride the force and not harvest it for my gain or to soothe my fears. She’s reinforcing my trust in the unfolding of life.

And I thank her.