Meadow of Dreams

Recently I planted seeds in my garden from a seed mix packet. Actually, I used several different packets of heirloom wildflower and sunflower seeds. In the past, I have either started my seeds indoors in the spring under controlled conditions or purchased small plants to put in the garden. I am not sure why but this year the seeds called out to me. I didn't stop to question the reason for their attractiveness. I decided to go with them.

There is something mysterious about seeds that buying or planting potted plants can't beat. Seeds are full of surprises and potential, referred to in the Yoruba language of West Africa as ashe. You just don't know exactly what you're going to get. You have to have faith. You need to trust the process and in things that are out of your control.

I checked in on my seedlings a few minutes ago. Many have sprouted up. With the heavy rains we've recently received, they are flourishing. The perplexing part is that because the little sprouts grew from a mixed bag of different types of seeds I have no idea what is growing in my garden. Moreover, I'm pretty sure baby weeds and grasses are mixing in with the wildflowers, furthering my confusion.

One of the most striking features of my meditation practice is mentally walking into the meadow. I find peace and respite there. Visiting it, just in my mind's eye, always makes my day special and meaningful. When most of us wonder into a meadow or open field, we can't identify every single wildflower or grass, instead we are immersed in a spirit of beauty and wonder.

I realize that artists and writers have a tendency to throw mixed seeds in the air, hoping they will take root where and how we desire. We shine down on them like a sun, filled with the hope that they will thrive, eventually bearing fruit for the harvest. While this way of making things happen has its detractors, it is a magical way of going through life.