“And only where the forest fires have sped,
Scorching relentlessly the cool north lands,
A sweet wild flower lifts its purple head,
And, like some gentle spirit sorrow-fed,
It hides the scars with almost human hands.
And only to the heart that knows of grief,
Of desolating fire, of human pain,
There comes some purifying sweet belief,
Some fellow-feeling beautiful, if brief.
And life revives, and blossoms once again.”
-Emily Pauline Johnson, Fire-Flowers
The COVID years have been hard. The pandemic was like a raging fire sweeping through neighborhoods, communities, and nations. It left trauma in its wake: pain, grief, and loss. For too long, I felt unbalanced, confused, and direction-less and allowed myself to sink into the charred earth and wallow in the ashes. I am at the age where I have entered the last third of my life and wondered if there were any seeds left to flower.
Finally, instead of continuing to wallow, I began to dig down to get back into touch with where my passion lies and why I am on this earth. Only then was I able to find the buried seed of that sweet wild flower and as I watered that earth, the seed stretched into the light and began to blossom again.
Sometimes we need to wallow, then dig, and then find the way to revive and bloom.
Thank you for this thanksgiving message. You remind me of our precious prairie plants-grasses and forbs-that take formidable abuse through fire and drought, yet return with full grace and glory to beckon and calm us in a new season.
Thank you Deb, for your sharing your story and the poem. I had a similar experience over the last few years where the range of challenges revealed my deeper callings and the gifts of this transformative period that would not have come about any other way. So much blessings in times of change when we listen for the jewels!
Wow! Vey deep and moving piece Deb.
Thank you Uma!
Thank you Greg, blessings to you as well.
Always good to hear from you, Peter.