Growing Pains
I wonder if it hurts a sprout as it cracks the shell of a seed, or if the daffodil feels discomfort as it emerges into the brisk New England air.
I wonder if it hurts a sprout as it cracks the shell of a seed, or if the daffodil feels pain as it emerges into the brisk New England air.
How do they do it? How do they deal with the discomfort?
Maybe they won’t even get the chance to bloom, with a hungry rabbit ruining petals before they fully open.
How do they sit in the in-between, the unknown? I bet they don’t question.
What a luxury.
Why can’t we just do the same? Follow where our hearts lead, without the discomfort, without the uncertainty.
Damn our human brains.
As we head toward the spaces where our hearts are illuminated and we can blossom, it often means stepping directly toward discomfort and into the unknown.
It is in this space where our needs align with the seedlings'. In these tender in-between moments, we too require nourishment.
Even in the noblest pursuit of growth, there is only so much discomfort our animal minds can handle.
As the seedling pulls towards the light, we can pull towards those who won’t let us remain small. Who remind us what our blooms might look like and the beauty they will bring to the world.
Whew, I feel this.