Last night the sky lit up every couple of minutes with light flashing in a wild weather dance. At one point I shut off all the lights to watch and wait for the next image to cross the nightscape. The show was eerily beautiful, a fleeting dance of nature. It got me thinking about how the darkness of night and lights off made the lightning flashes visible. Without the contrast of light/dark it would have been just a another thunder storm, minus the magic of “wow”.
That thought took me to the seed I planted recently – to write. That seed began in the nothingness of thought, then was planted into the soil of my soul. No light, just the ground of my being waiting to sprout roots deep inside. That seed needed to germinate in the dark for awhile… for days, months, probably years. Now the tiny shoots of Blogging with Sole Stories has broken ground. There are actually words finding their way from thought to form right here on the light of page. It’s that yin/yang thing… one needs the other to exist, even ideas.
It’s spring! Even with a light dusting of snow – true to the Coloradan expression that if you wait 10 minutes the weather can change – there is the presence that Spring has surely arrived. The sun travels across the sky each day gaining minutes of extended light, early blooming trees have opened their buds that are the special green of new growth, color blossoms from the flowers that are hardy to the cold temperatures, and seeds have been planted, like lettuces and onion sets.
This is the story of the seasonal rhythms of the earth. I wonder if we are called to find our place within those same cycles: from darkness into light, lying fallow to fertile, dreaming seeds of ideas into possibilities? How do we enter the spaces of our lives to welcome what is waiting to be born?
I contemplate what I wish to plant… What lies within my interior soul waiting to be rooted into substance and form? What will tether me to my creative juices and dance in my bones? My community tap classes have ended, the film project moves with its unique slow rhythm and the only step that whispers is to write. Yep, pen to paper, fingers to the keyboard, call in my creative angel and then just show up. Be willing to start!. Writing is the seed that I have tenderly planted while waiting patiently for the roots to take hold. Then, who knows what will sprout from this tiny seed?