I love the beauty of this lily, that stands gorgeously on my kitchen table, two feet tall. I love it for its outer — stamen, stigma, and oh, those white petals. This lily has nine buds, of which six are now open. I love it for its inner, which so often animates in me a sense of added mystery. I remain a person oriented with extra attention to the unseen as much as the seen. This lily is tremendously beautiful to me. Now. And in the memory I have of young boy life, Easter, and family of the 1970s.
I woke yesterday with hunger for flipchart, pens, post-it notes, counter space, and wall space. I woke yesterday needing to go further in and dwell in my own psyche. To map things. To connect insights. To scribble questions. To let them cook in the deeply internal world. To welcome them to flower in right timing, light, or protected dark.
Maybe it’s the lily. Maybe it’s spring. Maybe it’s corona. Maybe it’s my son’s wedding next week. Maybe it’s just time to follow the opening and to move post-its around in what my friend Bill Muhr calls, “a synchronicity bloom.”
Gonna suspend posts for a couple of weeks. To honor the inner. And follow it. Sending good vibes to each of you in your respective journeys outer and inner, joyed and / or sorrowed.
I’m so glad to that we notice together and find our moments to witness.