Week 10: “When I envision the first flower opening for the first time, I . . .”

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  • #1046
    Profile photo of caremycue
    caremycue
    Keymaster

    Original insight into the questions that plague us provides a welcomed sense of confidence and wonder to all areas of our lives. No longer robbed of rejuvenating sleep, we wake up energized and inspired. When we give ourselves fully to our writing, journaling becomes a catalyst for positive transformation. Journaling provides us with a safe space to boldly shed light on the insecurities, fears, and other disruptions that limit our experience of fulfillment.

    Today before journaling, drink a full glass of water to see if it makes your writing more fluid; after, call a trusted friend and read your journal response out loud; before bed, reflect briefly on how journaling helped to support you today. That’s it!

    This week’s journal prompt is:

    Week 10: “When I envision the first flower opening for the first time, I . . .”

    Week 1

  • #1047
    Profile photo of caremycue
    caremycue
    Keymaster

    When I envision the very first flower opening for the very first time, I touch that space where I and that flower are one, and I open for the very first time. It happens now, in this moment: continually flowering. I feel the warmth of the sunlight on my tender petals that, until now, had been swaddled safely inside the bud. A burst of sweet fragrance is released into the world which will now never be the same. I need not have a voice, I need not be heard, I need not be seen to have transformed this experience of life for all time.

    As my seeds are carried off by the wind, it is unclear to me whom will be nourished by the fruits of my flowering, and there is a gentle knowing that as I open ever more deeply, that I am opening also to my death. For the point of flowering does not begin and end with me. The point of flowering is to lend a single note to the symphony of experience, and bowing gracefully to the pregnant space from which other notes will arise.

    My flowering is but a symptom of this life that is both living me and flowering through me. I may be the very first flower opening for the very first time, but I will not be the last. And each flower that opens “flowers” for the very first time, for there is never any time apart from this time, and there is never a flower that is not the first, and there is never a flowering that is not simultaneously a amplification of life and an opening to death.

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