The Opening

This is an excerpt from the weekly News-Loveletter. If you would like it sent to your inbox directly (with all the other juicy bits, including a mini joy practice), you can add yourself to my mailing list here.

The sun peeks over our backyard fence. I see a flash of red as I pass the kitchen window.

"What's that?" I ask myself, leaning over the sink to get a better look.

"The poppy! The poppy's blooming!" I rush outside and stand before her. Red petals command the light of dawn.

This poppy has stage presence. I'm not her only audience. All of the greener beings around lean in to watch. We've never had a poppy in our midst. And this one is not bashful. Even the sun knows to cast a beam, highlighting her birth.

I run for my camera. When I return, I capture her from all angles. This poppy is a diva unfurling. Then I set the camera down in shock.

She is literally opening before my eyes. The green caps that once protected her fragile bud are widening their split. The two halves part. One side of the cap now falls to the ground.

Dawn's light confirms this transformation, and I, in the audience, am agog. I've never watched a flower open before my eyes, let alone a poppy with this kind of presence.

I am humbled by her birth.

I have invited poppies to grow here before, but none have taken root. I've planted packets and packets of seeds over the years, and when a furry seedling I didn't recognize popped up this spring, I'd thought it was a volunteer from last year's flower patch.

I had no idea it was this majestic being.

And to think I cast the seed. Hmm.

I think of the thousands of seeds we cast daily in our celebrations and grievances. The seeds of dreams planted in our psyches and in the psyches of others as we share our dreams with them.

These seeds grow as we tend them. When we are grateful for something, feeling the gratitude in our body, we sprout a grateful seedling and set it to earth.

When we complain of our limitations, we plant a vine alongside. That vine could choke out any poppy or sunflower in its radius. It's not the vine's fault. We have been the ones to plant it.

Our complaints can throttle our joys as we watch in horror. They seem to come out of nowhere.

But they don't. We plant our joys and and our worries. All day long.

In my daily practice with Prime and Shine, I'm extra aware of where I place my attention, where I plant my seeds of joy and worry. While leading this amazing free challenge, I'm walking my talk in front of learners from around the globe. We practice together.

Here's my thinking: We enjoy the journey most when we're awake for it. When we keep our eyes open to what's around us. When we celebrate and take responsibility for what we've planted.

There is glory to be had here. There are vermillion poppies opening within us every day. Opportunities to pause and celebrate. Moments to cherish and recognize that our every thought, word, and action counts.

Dawn's early light is on you and on me today, friend. We are unfurling. We are witnessing and being witnessed. Let's do it with love. Let's do it with intention. Let's fully embrace the beauty of this becoming.

Life is a wonder. Let's bloom together.