This week at my house, the daffodils are finally blooming, and I see signs that the tulips are not far behind. As gardeners know, the first flowers of spring come not from seeds but from bulbs. Any daffodil or tulip you see this today stored up energy all through last year’s growing season, and when it’s leaves were finished that work, stored the energy underground all winter, so it could start again, growing out of that bulb into the sunlight when the time was right. Just about anything you see growing right now comes from a bulb, or from its roots. Trees too- remember half of them lives underground. They have great reserves of life force they store year after year, century after century in their trunks and roots.
Here is where I am finding hope this year, even when the late snows or frost damage the spring’s ephemeral blossoms. As sad as it is to see the fragile buds and flowers crushed, or eaten by backyard critters, my hope is underground, in those bulbs, in those roots. My hope is in the trunks of the maple trees flowing with sweetness. The eye-catching blossoms that flutter to the ground in the wind are but a brief season in the life of that tree. My practice these days is to follow the beautiful signs of life back to their trunks and roots. To marvel not only at the temporary beauty, but at the persistence, the enduring life spread out all around us. We can practice following a similar trail in our own lives, our own spirits. Where are the reserves of strength and vitality in your life, in your story, in your community? What sources of nourishment and strength are available to you as seasons come and go? A great treasure trove of life-force persists below the surface which living beings draw on in hard times, and in times of flourishing. On this you can depend.
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