There is an image of a magnolia tree. I can feel its trunk as my trunk, its branches as my limbs, its roots as my roots deeply connected to the earth.
I’m struck how it is committed to loving me, and letting itself be loved by me. I’m also struck by its commitment to blossoming for only a short time, regardless of weather or circumstance, its dedication to beauty and ethics.
There is also something about a duty I have to rest, stay still, be open and sometimes dormant to nurture meaningful growth.
This image is a gift, a grace I could not have imagined on my own. Is it real or not real? What I trust most is what blossoms in my heart, dies, blooms again, eternally repeating itself for a purpose it does not fully understand, but knows is unfathomably sacred.
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Revisiting the image of the magnolia tree this morning, sensing it somatically and through the lens of the Brahmaviharas:
May I be so well.
May my suffering be soothed,
I realize how much I still live life in binaries, all or none thinking. Things are good if (fill in the blank), and bad when (fill in the blank).
May I meet this with a light touch,
Not pushing or pulling on anything.
The magnolia blossom imbues each circumstance (good, bad, and everything in between) with a light touch. It tries not to push or pull on things, because it understands causes and conditions needed to align in a special way for it to even be here.
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