6. September 26, 2019
This week I am thinking about sunflowers. About the nodes they create as they grow (moments that are full of potential). How they expand and contract throughout their lives - how rhythms of blossoming and turning inwards are a natural part of how they evolve.
I am thinking in particular about shedding: that as they grow, parts of them die away, are shed, are left behind. This week, as I was holding space and time and grief during a significant anniversary, I was grounded by reflecting on the ways that it is natural that some parts of myself or my life will need to be left behind in order to let others grow and flourish. As we watched the sunflower stretch and strain upwards, there was struggle, vulnerability, openness, hope.
I took a picture of half-submerged sunflowers at the sanctuary at Omega in June - noticing the ways that the bright blues of the summer sky reflected and contrasted with their buttery, saturated yellow. I am appreciating in new ways the resiliency and work these plants put in to blossoming, if only for a season.