One by one I took them out and threw them in the trash. The rest lasted until today. Only then did I begin to notice the under-petal of the roses.
Tom bought flowers last Saturday for the Easter table–all of them pink–three roses, three lilies and one Gerber daisy. The Gerber daisy was the first to go, then a lily. It was only when the brilliant parts of the flowers lost their luster that I took such notice. The soft muted colors, veins of green and white and subtle pink. It looked like the skin of a baby, translucent and soft. I wanted to reach out and touch it and so I did.
This week, I am exploring the actualized or actualizing parts of the self. They are much like the under-petal of the rose. The under-petal sits grounded in itself. Not seeking or hoping to impress. There is no striving to be noticed, if a rose would ever do such a thing. The under-petal is the base and support of the brilliant part of the flower and the self–authentic, a place of joy because it already knows how beautiful it is. There is no seeking to be more than it is. It is enough. Secure. All the pressure is off when in the place of the under-petal. There is time for nurturing and quiet. It does not seek recognition or glory or the spotlight. No, it is rooted in the deepest sense of itself, it would seem. In this place, the feeling is light and playful–completely unaware of the glaring eye of the critic. This is space to be creative. A place that has meaning, a deep, satisfying meaning in its unassuming expression. Ahhhhh. To come from the place of the under-petal. It’s a good place to thrive and a pathway for what really calls us in life.