You will rise back up and bloom: faith learned from life and the garden

 

This is what happens,
after life cuts you down to the ground.

You may be stunned and startled,
hollowed and halted,
broken and disheveled,
cut off from everything you knew
and were growing towards.

But slowly over time,
nature will have her way.

Your roots will draw sustenance
from tears and sobbing,
the pain of desolation, 
and the barrenness that breathes you
when your dream has been snatched away.

One day, maybe tomorrow, 
maybe next week, 
maybe next month
or even years from now,
you will rise back up, 
and you will bloom
more beautiful than ever before. 
Radiant with all your scars
and all your new growth. 

Despite everything, 
you endured. 

You risked, you loved, you lost
and in the end you won,
twisted, stretched, scrunched and moulded
into intricate living wisdom
that cannot be learned from reading books,
only from embracing 
and bowing to life herself,
no matter how willing or unwillingly
you fell to your knees and plunged
into the mud and the darkness.


 

PS Please share, with love.

Grief at Christmas and the joy that isn't happiness

Grief at Christmas and the joy that isn't happiness

"From joy all beings have come.

In all joy beings are sustained.

To joy all beings return.

This is the highest teaching.

This is the highest teaching."

—The Upanishads*

We are now on the eve of Christmas Eve. This time of year is supposed to be filled with joy but for many it isn't. Many experience sadness, grief, loneliness, fear and anxiety and can especially struggle with those feelings during a season of expected festiveness. This I know.

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It’s how we travel that matters

It’s how we travel that matters

"And in the end, it's not the years in your life that count. It's the life in your years." — Abraham Lincoln

Last Sunday, a man who I worked with closely for seven years – a colleague, a mentor, a friend – passed away, suffering a cardiac arrest in hospital as he was recovering from a stomach bypass operation.

The news was unexpected. At first I was filled with disbelief and shock. You see Max was larger than life. He was a people person through and through. He loved telling stories, very long ones so that you would find yourself walking out of his office two hours later when you only walked in to ask a quick question.

He made time for everyone, to listen, to help them and offer sage advice. He also made time to serve his community. Max was the co-founder of an amazing business; a longtime member of Rotary and past President; a supporter of the Austin Hospital and The Olivia Newton John Cancer and Wellness Centre. These are just few of his contributions to this world.

I think it is because of his great love for people, and his tireless and endless service in this world, it seemed like he would go on forever but maybe his physical heart couldn’t contain the enormous amount of love that was in there any longer.

Once the shock passed, grief rolled in on overwhelming waves. At first the strength of my reaction seemed strange to me. I hadn’t seen Max in just over 18 months — not since his original business partner and my very dear friend, Lynne retired. And I hadn’t seen him often since I left Snowball 5 ½ years ago as I spent a lot of that time overseas.

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