Today, I had the pleasure of a long, leisurely conversation
with a dear friend who always makes me look at the world from a slightly different
perspective and who always encourages me to open my eyes to the simple beauty
which surrounds me. We were talking
about creating space in our lives to be able to live in such moments, and the
clutter which often robs us of such a vista.
It seemed to us, we often willing, even lovingly, cling to this clutter as
a way of remembering such moments in our past and in the process rob ourselves
of the capacity to see in the present.
As my friend was sharing her thoughts an image came to my mind of a book
and a dried flower.
Actually, it was more of a memory than an image. A friend had given me the collected works of
John Steinbeck as a groomsman’s gift years ago.
He wrote a nice inscription in the front cover and the book is something
which was displayed on our bookshelf for many years. Several years ago, I took the book off the
shelf to dust it and found in its back pages a pressed, dried flower. It had long since lost its scent and its soft
velvet petals had been transformed into a stiff, brittle mass which crumbled
each time it was touched or moved.
When I discovered the dried flower I was not surprised. I remember placing it between the pages of
the volume soon after our own wedding. It was a flower from Tammie’s bouquet. Over the years when I would stumble upon the
dried flower I would remember where it came from and what it represented. Sometimes I might even call out to Tammie, “Look,
the flower from your wedding bouquet.” I would always place it back between the
pages and put it back upon the shelf.
The last time I stumbled across this memento I took a brief
moment to look at it for what it had become, not for the memory it held. It was a dead, dry flower which was falling
apart. While it was a placeholder for a
memory, it in no way adequately represented the beauty of my bride, or the
flowers that she held, as she walked down the aisle towards me on our wedding
day. When I close my eyes, I can clearly
see her radiant beauty. The years have
not erased the moment from my memory, but they were not so kind to the
flower. They turned it into a poor depiction
of a beautiful moment. Because of this, I threw the flower out.
Before you crucify me as an unsentimental clod, remember
there is no one who enjoys drinking in a moment more than I do. I savor beauty and often pause to let it soak
into my soul. I treasure the sacred spaces where hearts are open, awareness gives
birth to discovery, laughter binds together and the capacity to simply be
present to one another is cultivated. I treasure the tapestry which is woven
when lives intersect over time and find myself both humbled and grateful at having
so many which have been interwoven through years and years of relationship.
And yet, I do not want to hold any of these moments, or the
clutter which I have accumulated over time to remember them, so tight that they
prevent me from creating the simplicity of space necessary to discover the
beauty of the present moment.
When I was younger, I did not recognize how one competed
with the other, and so I pressed flowers into books. Now, I see it. I have come to understand I have a finite
ability to hold things. There is only so
much I can cling to before my capacity is filled. I see how the things I hold on to take up more than just space in my house. The recognition of these things is an invitation to learn to let go.
Looking down at that dried flower I realized it had let go
long ago, even though I had done all I could do to hold on to it. Throwing it away was simply a way of acknowledging
this truth.
I shared this image with my friend and we let it soak in.
A little later in the morning we moved our conversation into
my friend’s office and she drew my attention to a vase of flowers which had
been on her desk and which were now near a sink. As recently as the day before they
were vibrant and beautiful, but overnight they had wilted. They were now ready to be discarded and replaced. She said, “Some things simply cannot be held
onto.”
She is right. And yet,
we often spend so much energy trying to hold on to that which has already withered. This is true with more in life than just
flowers.
While something is blooming I say, recognize its
beauty. Be inspired by it. It is right to take notice, to enjoy the
space it fills. Learn the discipline of
savoring it. Let the sweetness of its
scent fill your nostrils. Rub your
finger tips to across its soft petals. Place
it where it can be illumined by the morning light which streams through the
window. Allow your eyes to drink in its beauty often, for as long as it last,
but do not cling to it too tightly.
Be willing to let it go, for chances are the space which is
created when you do will allow you to see the beauty of that which is readying
itself to bloom.
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