Daffodils

 

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daffodils

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Today, I bought a small pot of daffodils. I picked one with two flower bulbs just shy of peek. I could tell they were eager to bloom but were holding it off just in case something wonderful happened to them. I brought my new plant into my warm living room. It’s 35 degrees today and I swear I saw a few snowflakes on the way home. As if they wanted to thank me for giving them a home, the flowers were in their fullness in just a few hours. When Wordsworth saw “a host of dancing daffodils”, he was walking by Ullswater on a stormy day. You can easily imagine how the beauty of daffodils growing on the shore of one of the most beautiful lakes inspired Wordsworth to write this famous poem. Although my small daffodils do not inspire me to write anything stunning, they are inspiring two fun projects. First is to plant daffodils around my house for the upcoming spring season. Second is to research if there is a host of dancing daffodils growing on the shore of any lakes around here. Thoughts about these two springy projects will keep my mind busy and relaxed. However ironic that might sound, it’s a statement that will make sense to all bipolar sufferers.

 I have been noticing recently the fast awakening of my mind, so eager to bloom, so eager to begin something new and grand. My wise mind tells my monkey mind that something new and grand are really disguised in small things. They come in small doses, little by little, day by day, sustained by patience, and fertilized by hope, and always empowered by faith. It happens through many dark days and even darker nights.

Just as flowering daffodils do not happen over night, things take time to create beauty. It takes days, months, and years of enduring the underworld, buried in the darkness. Then the metamorphosis is witnessed when a small stem pokes its head one day. It grows taller and taller until the bulbs are formed, and you know that the flowers are not too far behind. Then the day comes when temperature and light conditions are just “right” and those beautiful flowers are here at last. Finally, something new and grand.

It doesn’t have to be a violent process. It’s never meant to be a violent process. One daffodil, two daffodils grow until there are millions of daffodils on the shore of a beautiful lake, and next thing you know, the whole world admires daffodils for ages and ages. It takes some dark periods that ask for patience, hope and faith, but it is never meant to be violent as long as one submits to the natural cycle of the way things are. You cannot rush. You must enjoy each step of the way, because it all adds to something new and grand. As a matter of fact, all things are new and grand wherever, whatever, and however they are.

 

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