Perhaps if we Saw its Roar

Called a dandelion, rarely if ever seen for more than it is a nuisance much like a weed.   Vibrant in its yellow, yet it invokes annoyance if it is seen.   One could argue it roars like a lion the way it pops up and spreads quickly in competition to overtake the green grass.   Our tendency is to determine the method to rid ourselves of it, and fast.

We await the green of the grass, especially when it feels that winter might not go to sleep.   We are joyful and even excited as soon as we see it is time to mow yards once, if not twice a week.   We don’t focus on the work of mowing, so happy we are that it is now Spring.  But, oh, those cursed dandelions that are trying to ruin our grass, or so we believe.

Unlike the dandelion, we express our delight at the wild violets that peek through the blades of grass, too.   Their dainty gentleness, their multiple lavender and purple hues.   We don’t see them as troublesome or intrusive – actually, sadly, we may not notice them at all.  So tiny in their size, they are somewhat taken for granted by being so small.    Like the end of their name, that is exactly what we do.  We let them be, without scheming ways to stop them from popping through.

What can be a parallel to life, these dandelions and wild violets that visit in the Spring?  Are the dandelions those annoyances and frustrations, the things we don’t like?  And are the violets the acceptance we have to the flow of life?  Or maybe the violets are the things we take for granted will always be as they are.  And the dandelions are those things that are part of life, but we wish that they aren’t.

Or perhaps the dandelions are those things that are trying to get our attention and redirect how we see.   What if the dandelion was something we could appreciate as a positive sign of Spring?    As a child we make dandelion bracelets and necklaces from the stems and we would giggle at the temporary tattoos we made on our chins.  I laugh and smile now at that ritual to delightedly squeal buttercup as I twisted the yellow into a friend’s skin.   And then of course there was the innocence of picking a dandelion that had went to seed.  Oh, the fun of making a wish and scattering their feather-like toppings, not realizing the wish would scatter for next year’s dandelion abundancy.  These dear dandelions a child’s friend and what bonded friendships, chin to chin unconditionally.   Hmmm, is there opportunity to find that inner child this Spring?   Think about that as you prepare to spray or feverishly mow these so called “weeds”.

And then of course there is the ebb and flow of life, the opposites that are necessary for our best learning.  What if we noticed how the dandelion and violet grow together in harmony?   If we were partial to the violet, could we see the gift of the dandelion because it drew our attention first to then look past it to the lavender nearby?   Or perhaps we could appreciate the dandelion for being a protector of the violet, standing tall by its side?   Or maybe we could see that they need each other to flourish to be the best they can, or that they both are helping the dirt fulfill its purpose as the foundation in which they both stand?  Or perhaps if we are drawn to the violet first, and the dandelion we don’t see, we are letting go of our focus on dislike to generate loving energy.

This little stuffed buddy that someone left on the trail has found a way to walk from its guarding post to its new resting place.   A little more weatherized since he last said hello to me one day.   I think of the dandelion like this little fella with his now matted mane.  A dandelion’s yellow petals like the fur around this face.   This little fella is quiet, yet he roars to all who pass by.   One can’t help but pause and smile at this cute little surprise.   So, as we reflect on how we have waited oh so long for the green grass to come alive and show us Spring and Summer will in fact, be, is there an opportunity to look again at our dandelion and celebrate its beauty?

 

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