“Change is a continuous process. You cannot assess it with the static yardstick of a limited time frame. When a seed is sown into the ground, you cannot immediately see the plant. You have to be patient. With time, it grows into a large tree. And then the flowers bloom, and only then can the fruits be plucked.” ~Mamata Banerjee
“When you increase the number of gardens, you increase the number of heavens too!” ~Mehmet Murat ildan
“And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.” ~Anais Nin
Dear Friends,
Happy Passover, Happy Easter, Happy spring. Today, the grass actually looks green; there’s a mist of new green leaves on the underbrush in the woods, and the daylight stretches beyond dinnertime. The red flowers of the maples are turning the hills red and spring has settled in. Spring more than any other season is a period of change. The land is transformed, and we are too. We change our clothes, our attitudes, and begin to live more in the outdoors. We can see change clearly in the spring and we want to see change in our own lives as well.
Last fall, a friend and I planted over 100 daffodils lining my driveway. Halfway through April, I counted five emerging sprouts. That was it. I was disappointed that my efforts were for nothing and some mysterious blight had destroyed my daffodil crop. I told my friend about my doubts, and she said, “You’re two weeks behind everyone else. Patience.” But I didn’t want patience; I wanted what I saw in other people’s gardens—a bunch of great looking daffodils. It occurred to me that this daffodil conundrum was just like life. We put in effort with our practice, we fertilize and plan, but sometimes our efforts don’t manifest the way we want them too. Sometimes our daffodils don’t appear on schedule.
We live in a culture that is obsessed with achievement in everything we do. We do things to bring about results, to get better, to have peace, and change things. Improvement invades our hobbies; we need to become a better painter, singer, or have a beautiful garden. We don’t usually just do things because we enjoy them, and they are a wholesome way to spend time. A lack of measurable progress in our practice can bring on an attack of doubt, worsened by the undeniable happiness killer—comparison.
Our spiritual progress is distinctly personal—it may not look like anyone else’s. While others may be engaging in heroic actions, volunteering at clinics in war zones and traveling to give aid to those in conflicts, our path may look quiet and mundane. Sometimes we need to look deeply to see what is happening in our lives. It is hard to remember how we were before practice. It can be helpful to have a close friend or kind family member remind us. Occasionally my husband tells me, “you’re so much nicer now.” And although I understand that he appreciates how the practice is making a difference in my life, I also wonder, how awful was I before?
We may not see the ways calming the body and mind, and bringing mindful awareness to our thoughts, words, and actions are making a difference. If we turn our attention to how we interact with others, we may notice distinct marks of change. Do we have more patience and understanding with the service folks who are on the other end of the phone or the drivers in other cars? One of the best barometers of our practice is our relationships with our family, friends, and coworkers. Have we transformed our own suffering enough to make a happy life? Are we in conflict with others, or able to express our authentic truth without blaming and judging? When we consider the whole of our lives, our interactions and being each day, what one word comes to mind? Is our attitude one of service and compassion or competition and defense? What are we bringing to ourselves and to the world each day?
This week on the driveway, I started to see more green shoots poking up. Now there are buds and my doubts have vanished. Buds become flowers. It’s the natural progression, the same way practicing centering our hearts and minds brings us peace and clarity. These things go together. Sometimes that progress is difficult to see, and our gardens may not look as beautiful as our neighbors, but if we practice and continue, it is unavoidable. We change. Today you may like to sit for a while and bring gratitude to yourself for your commitment to practicing, gratitude for the ways in which you’ve been diligent and worked to transform fear, judgment, and suffering in your life. This progress is truly a celebration, even if it’s only a single flower.
May we all trust our light,
Celia
special thanks to David Nelson for sharing this photo!