The camellia bush in what we laughingly call our garden is heaving with beautiful pale pink flowers. Even deep inside the bush, and under all the foliage, they still burst out. Finding tiny spaces to bloom, some are even upside down.
But brush the bush and you create a pink avalanche. Reach in to cut a stem and the exquisitely shaped flower in full bloom may disintegrate. Ever so gently. Like shedding pink tears, which fall on the ground like a carpet.
There is this extraordinary combination of robust fragility. The strong evergreen leaves, and fleshy petals, which release their hold on life so quickly. A mere breath.
Appearances can be deceiving and that which we thought was here forever is temporal.
This week, of all weeks, reminds us of this unknowing. It’s a week of transitions in so many ways. And invites us to choose: will we go or will we stay?
Not going in terms of distance, away from here. But leaving the present to either remain in the past or strive for the future, bypassing the discomfort of the unknowing now.
To be in the present unknowing is actually a glorious invitation. This is what it means to be fully alive.
Not wanting for what’s gone before or waiting for tomorrow. But being open to the possibilities of today.
This creates space for wonder. Our eyes and ears are wide open to notice. To have our attention drawn to things or people we would otherwise miss. Seeing where it leads because this moment will never happen again.
And wonder sparks curiosity. Blowing apart our preconceptions and inviting us to explore. Because that’s the thing about unknowing. It can be a blank page, not just a fearful shadow.
Unknowing then shifts from being a narrow space to a broad place. Reframing who we are and where we stand. Somehow it enables us to realise that we are no longer the centre of our universe.
Choosing to be here and now also shifts our sense of time. In my experience, it becomes more fluid and less pressing. It somehow allows me to breathe more deeply and my whole body responds.
When we yield to being nowhere else but here, we relax. For me, it’s a letting go. Laying down all the things I think I should have done and releasing my grip on my anxiety about tomorrow. And the day after…
And the amazing thing that is life blossoms. Yes, it might be in small things: moments of tenderness, whispers of hope and glimpses of grace. But they are real and feed my soul. And overspills in gratitude that that enables me to rest in the unknowing.
What an extraordinary cycle!
Our choosing to be present in the unknowing releases abundant life. Not just for us, but for those around us too.
What a glorious freedom…
I hope you experience the fullness and blessing of this Easter weekend.
Thanks for reading
In a sense, all of this week has been building up to this weekend. Here and now – a glorious, present, unknowing.