Cultivating courage
Welcome to Spring Equinox 2020, WOW. If ever we need to step across the threshold into a new experience of balance and equilibrium in the midst of instability and many unknowns, it’s now.
Twice a year, during the period of the Equinox, cracks open up in the Earth's magnetic field - Equinox Cracks. Our personal magnetic field syncs up with the Earth, so when these cracks arrive, we tend to crack open as well, we may feel unbalanced, emotional, out of sorts. Our ancestors knew that during these periods we have an increased ability to release more deeply, to shed our stories of the past, and step through the gateway into something new, more balanced, more aligned with our heart and our highest destiny.
Romanian Calendula in Southern Utah
I usually bemoan the earliness of spring’s arrival in the desert, all the work involved in tidying the yard and preparing the garden. But this year, I’m grateful. Each day I go outside and weed for at least an hour as a space for breath, meditation, and grounding. In years past I’ve planted the garden boxes with half-hearted intent, open to whatever grows or doesn’t. Not so this year.
Working in the yard and garden these past few weeks, I’ve had time to consider the roots that support my growth, that provide nourishment, that nurture my feeling of groundedness and stability. As I prep the garden beds and assess the stock of seeds, I’ve thought about how much courage it takes to plant a garden.
Each seed goes into the ground and I don’t know if it will sprout and grow. I don’t know if the weather conditions will support a successful harvest. What if the bugs eat the plants…what if the heat wilts the plants…what if I under or over water…will I be a good enough, conscientious enough, dedicated enough gardener and so on. As my thoughts spiraled, I realized that gardening is an act of courage, faith and trust.
Currently in the garden are some resilient calendula plants that wintered over from last season. They are grown from seeds that I received from a dear friend 8 years ago when I traveled to Romania with my son after the sudden death of my husband. I wasn’t sure if they would even germinate when I first discovered and planted them 2 years ago, but I hopefully stuck them in the ground, and miraculously, they BLOOMED! There are no words to express the delight I feel seeing them still growing. Those humble seeds, carried across an ocean, thousands of miles, and many years of life experience have been a profound teacher for me.
There are experiences in life that bring us to our knees, pull the rug out from under us, crack our heart wide open, and invite us to question anything and everything. In these moments it’s natural to wonder if we will ever find our way back to solid ground and find the courage to continue forward. In these same moments we are also given the seeds for new beginnings, the seeds of our becoming.
Some seeds we plant right away to help us get our bearings, to feel we are doing something, anything. There are others we tuck away, knowing these seeds will require a level of attention and care we aren’t prepared to offer just yet. Then one day, perhaps when we least expect it, the nudge comes that it’s time. Each time the call comes to plant a seed and we listen and respond, we are cultivating courage, inviting our faith to grow, and building trust in the process of life. It doesn’t matter if the seed sprouts or lays dormant in the soil, it matters that you tenderly placed it with the hope that it will grow.
During this wild and surreal time of the Equinox, the wisdom and beauty of the Calendula reminds me of the importance of cultivating courage in small and simple ways. As you are present with how you are feeling, allowing yourself to experience the slower pace, more stillness, you are prepping the soil. As you tune into what feels like the next best step for you, for your family you begin planting seeds to heal the shock of rapid change and gently rebuild trust in the power of creation.
I never know what will transpire when I plant the garden. What I do know is that the potential harvest and the growth that occurs along the way is absolutely worth the dance with the unknown. It takes great courage to plant a garden in our life. To be willing to tend to the seeds and nurture our creations. There will always be a list of “what if’s” and we cultivate courage so we can face them with faith and trust in what can grow.
It’s normal to experience anxiety or fear around our capacity and commitment as a gardener. It takes courage to sit with the fear. What’s important is that we commit to give it our best, even if it’s one seed, because each time we do, we build capacity and we cultivate courage.
These days life around us is filled with upheaval, uncertainty, and a myriad of unknowns. What better time could there be to start planting? To transform our lives into splendid, beautiful, gardens. To try our hand at growing the things we didn’t think could be possible. On this day of the Equinox I invite you to plant a seed in your life. In the stillness, offer up a seed of your becoming, a dream for the most joyful, expansive life you wish to live and let it rest in the fertile soil of your heart. Tend to it by asking what it needs to grow, listen to the answer, and respond.
It may not be time for the full on garden, but you can always tend to one seed. What is the seed that you have the courage to plant in your life today? As our world is in a massive period of transformation, imagine the possibilities if we each stepped up to tend to the garden?
