And in the Midst of it all, the Wisteria is still blooming.
Nature goes on with her cycles — maybe it is the time to pay a little more attention
Life in Southern California is a little crazy right now. The yoga studio where I teach has closed its doors for at least two weeks. My husband and I made the decision this morning to have everybody in our office start working remotely tomorrow. And the frozen and canned sections of the stores are barren wastelands.
But I have enough cat food, treats and sand for a couple of months. And I have enough of a stockpile of my favorite tea to last for longer than that. And, while I write this, the bird feeder on the balcony just feet away from my desk is buzzing with activity. The finches and mountain chickadees and scaly-breasted munias don’t have any conceptualization of the human drama unfolding around the planet right now.
I stepped outside to eat my lunch today, and was greeted by an explosion of purple wisteria. I’ve been watching it unfold for a couple of weeks now. It started, just as it always does, with a little waxy bud.
Then, a few days later, the nascent flowers begin to burst through the thin skin in which they have been embraced.
Inch by tender inch, the flowers march down towards the tip of the blossom. Eventually, the vine becomes a waterfall of cascading petals, unfurling one after the other in a cacophony of luxurious hues of purple and blue.
The sight of the wisteria in full bloom always makes my heart happy. Part of the thrill is the ephemerality of the process. From waxy bud to an explosion of petals and then back to a green-leafed vine takes only a few weeks. It’s one of those things that, if you don’t pay attention to it, you might miss it completely.
So, while the world is a little nutso right now, we all must realize that, like the wisteria blossom, this crisis will not last forever. And with the extra time that we all have from not commuting, we have the opportunity to spend a few more moments every day in nature. And, nature, surely, is the best possible cure for our spirits and minds. So, take a walk, notice the flowers, listen to the birds, and take a little deeper breath. This too shall pass.
Erika Burkhalter is a yogi, neurophilosopher, cat-mom, photographer, and lover of travel and nature, spreading her love and amazement for Mother Earth’s glories, one photo, poem or story at a time. (MS Neuropsychology, MA Yoga Studies). Erika is also an editor for Dharma Talk.
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Poem and photos © Erika Burkhalter 2020. All rights reserved.
