New things begin with a seed. A thought, an inspiration, something enters into us and we’re off. Our imaginations grab hold and our hands go to work. Our hearts are committed.
Whether or not we are ready to receive the seed is a thing. What’s our soil like? Is it fertile, or rocky? Is there enough space in our garden for the seed to be planted?
How the seed enters is also a thing. Is it just scattered on the ground, hoping to find good ground? Is it carefully placed, dirt cleared for it, and covered over again?
Whether or not a seed is cared for is definitely a thing. Is it left to its own devices, and the randomness of nature? Is it given what it needs to grow and protected from destructive elements?
The fragility of the seed and new things echoes throughout life. Maybe that’s because there are parts of life that are always new. We are always discovering, and being surprised (or caught off guard). Our bodies are always changing, so we are literally always changing. Each day is new. We all develop tools and mechanisms to cope with this utter lack of constancy.
I wonder if, instead of coping, we could learn what is means to care of life in the midst of the change? Could we approach life in the same way we care for a new thing that is budding from its seed? What if each day, each breathe of life was a gift to be cared for, lived through, and showered with love?