“Ten times a day something happens to me like this – some strengthening throb of amazement – some good sweet empathic ping and swell. This is the first, the wildest and the wisest thing I know: that the soul exists and is built entirely out of attentiveness.” ~ Mary Oliver
My children tease me for talking to the plants in the garden. My garden, your garden, the hardware store ranuculus, I’ll have a conversation with a plant. I think it matters. Why shouldn’t I talk to them? They talk to me and I’m grateful for the lessons.
In the morning when I walk outside, cup of coffee in hand, they call me to attention.
The weeds remind me to keep my accounts short and the roses remind me that pruning my life down to the most important things keeps me from spreading my life too thin and giving away too many things. Discipline and sacrifice cause me to flourish in the long run.
Today, the mint was talking to me about containers.
What must be contained?
And what must spill over and invade every area of my life?
The yarrow in the front bed, like the mint, refuses to stay small. Despite it’s delicate appearance, it is poised to take over the world. Or at least the entire front bed. I have it contained to a corner. It spills over onto the front walk and reminds me that there is a certain grace in letting beauty spill over. That soft edges make for a welcoming entry. And, I must never underestimate a quiet presence.
As I was planting the chocolate mint in it’s bright yellow pot, the fragrance filled the space. I envisioned planting it straight into the ground and saw it covering the yard.
What if mint was love?
And we took it out of the tiny containers we create and we let it spread.
What if we recognized that when we are crushed we are fragrant and offer healing?
What if we knew our infinite capacity to change and heal the world simply by thriving and overflowing?
I hope that today you recognize where you should be contained and where you must spill over.
BE in your life,
Betsy
