Resilience in Bloom

We are fickle creatures, you and I, prone to traverse paths that are comfortable and known, to eschew those things which offend our sensibilities, and to gorge ourselves on what makes us feel wanted, appreciated, whole. It's the curse of humanity, really, to want and not have, to need and not be granted, to endlessly pursue through toil and travail for that which nurtures the body and yet leaves the soul barren.

In our pursuits, we run roughshod over anything that stands in our way. If we don't like a mountain, we tunnel through it; if we don't want water to take over our fertile spaces, we build dams; if we don't want...the list grows with our destructive achievements almost every day. We don't recognize them as such for that would be to acknowledge that the toll we take from the earth and each other is immeasurable. Rather, we choose to sweep it under the rug using carefully crafted words in annual reports to our boards and Wall Street highlighting how our profitability as a company absolves us from sin.

In a cleft of rock near the ass-end of Saksun and close to the black sand beach, where the soil clings tenuously to whatever substrate it can and the grass sends finely-threaded roots into every crevice, there was this little orange flower. I know it's not extraordinary, for I saw many in the walk to this hallowed ground. But, what held my attention was the persistence of this flower, despite the harsh surroundings, to gain what it needed: light, air, water in order to hopefully survive by propagation.

It was beauty made manifest in the inky darkness of waterfall slicked rock, tumbled stones, and shallow earth. It was survival through sheer will and tenacity, an imperative stronger than the gravity of defeat.

I'm of fewer words today than I have been over the last, exhausted from the churning of spirit and soul, of reality and distortion, of the already and not-yet. I find some measure of solace in the simple things today; a flower, some earth, a will to live despite. I think there's something so manifestly beautiful in the ability to survive despite, where a dangling preposition in a sentence leads you to add your own nouns, verbs, descriptions. This flower embodies that despite and, as much as it's jarring to these sentences and structures, perhaps that is what we need in this moment.

We've got our own rocks, our own shallow depths of nurturing soil, our own shaded and dark places that block the healing light from our souls. We've many a thought that creases our horizons that, if left unchecked, would lead us to despair given our human condition. We're surviving, many of us, in the best ways that we know how, surrounded by an inhospitable environment comprised of hate and violence, selfishness and greed, and other such social ills. Our tendency to shrink into ourselves at these times, to duck and cover in hopes that it passes by, is understandable. These times are rough.

I'd urge us to take heart from the simple flower you see here. That, despite the conditions that surround us, the ever-encroaching darkness that seems to overwhelm our souls, there is room to grow still. There is room to sink your roots, however deep, to draw from the wellspring of life, to unfurl your beauty to a world that doesn't necessarily understand it, to gather to you those that can carry a message of hope and beauty beyond your delightful existence, and to thrive where all else clamours and competes.

My dear souls, you are resilient even when all else falls apart. Having the courage to peer deep into those crevices and cracks of your souls to see where your foundation lies is no mean feat. It takes persistence and time to find your worth, your mission, your means. I can only highlight for you that the end state is worth it; that the beauty you possess, however insignificant you may feel it is, is enough.

You are enough.

May it ever be so.

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