As I made a circle around the yard, the lawnmower and I at one with the grass on a Fall in the air day, my eyes were drawn to these tiny colors moving in harmonic sway. At first glance the blue flowers whispered we are the below to the sky you see. A mantra the sky above me, the ground below me now riding with me in the lawnmower seat.
As I continued, these vibrant red colors stood in wait, each holding a side of the semi-circle’s shape. One to the left, keeping watch not just of me. The creek also flows past this flower’s “feet”. The other two watching from the right in anticipation when I would reach their sturdy pose in salute. They a guardrail to ensure the mower not infringe too far from the grass roots. Like their comrades on the other side in blue, these red beacons messengers, too. Light externally, fire within. The earlier mantra expanding to include this.
The intention to take pictures evaporated when the engine key shifted from on to off as other tasks called with raised hands Me! Pick Me! The tasks were collaborators for the “right” time with the tiny bee. The sky above, the ground below, all things living have their own sun centering. All things living a light for others who may not easily be seen. This tiny blue flower holding out its golden center for this bee; this tiny blue flower the bee’s rejuvenation amongst a large expanse of bolder greenery.
Eyes ahead, yet glances left and right for what adorns the mower’s pathway. Eyes open to seeking, coupled with maneuvering the mower at a slower pace. The mower passes tall, strong trees; maple and oak and birch the charismatic that one can’t help noticing. The lake and the pond, too, play their parts in bravely being seen; their size and their calmness humbly drawing eyes towards them with look at me. They, too, collaborators, the trees their teammates in catching eyes. As the tree leaves begin dancing in their orange, burnt red, and brown coats, the lake grabs a mirror for the leaves as they waltz by. The eyes caught in seeing the coats being modeled not just once but twice. The lake’s mirror captivating in reflecting what is peering down from the sky.
Yet, what if these tiny blue and red flowers had a lake or pond directly beneath? Would we start to see these tiny, yet worthwhile, flowers differently? Do we sometimes not notice the bold, brave, and extraordinary individuals along our path because they appear to be hidden in the shadows of the charismatic and heroes – of society’s perception of “noteworthy“ versus “ordinary”? Or perhaps we sometimes don’t notice because we are hearing through being taught “grand” is equivalent to “success”, the bigger the better our mind’s training. And perhaps yet another is that heroic stories inspire and pull us from our fears of current reality. We can shift to thank goodness that isn’t me and if they can rise through adversity, certainly I also have that capability. Their story “so much worse” than me.
Is there a balance between feeling inspired and diminishing dignity? If one story inspires us, is there a risk it also closes us to greater hearing and seeing? Do we risk not noticing someone whose story is equally courageous, inspiring, and one in which we can learn a great deal about hope and faith? Perhaps to listen to an “ordinary” story brings reality too close to our own face? To hear that someone else has struggled with what we are wrestling with can be a comfort, but only if we are ready to open to the healing that wants to take place. If it is still too raw within, our hearts are searching for the stories “over there” of “great”.
Each person has an extraordinary light for another to see. If you aren’t sure, peek again at this little tiny bee. This bee drawn to the blue flower with the yellow centering, or like this red flower as vibrant as the maple’s red leaves. All things living…far, oh so, far from ordinary.