Suddenly the dandelions are going to seed. This recently exonerated “weed” (resurrected in modern circles as a nutrient powerhouse for humans and bees) emerged almost unnoticed amidst Spring’s brilliant pallet. Now delicate spheres of plumed seeds tremble triumphantly on the morning breeze. Gossamer white against the forest’s green. Awaiting a child’s curious hand and delightful scattering exhale. Everything has its cycle. Growing. Blossoming. Rest.
The Heart stretches and grows. Each courageous attempt builds capacity and endurance. Carving out space to comfort a friend on the week’s busiest work day. Breathing in a deep centering prayer when old patterns threaten. Jumping completely into spontaneous play. A few examples from my week. Actions and inner choices often so small, unannounced and in the moment that even our closest companions may not notice. But the growing Heart feels the effort. It celebrates the blossoming and registers the exertion.
A friend of mine counsels that fatigue is greatest danger in physical exercise. A reminder that the evolutionary Heart needs rest. Quiet, regenerative interludes. Moments when courage and even celebration can pause in preparation for the next stretch.