On Patiently Unfolding: A Happiness Tale
“Momma! When can I come out and play?” the little aster called. “All the other buds have opened. I want to come out, too!”
The little bud was frustrated. She felt the sun’s warmth on her outer petals and heard the oooo’s and ahhhh’s of the other buds as they opened to its light. But here she was, still curled tight.
She wanted so much to be a full-fledged flower. Every morning when the birds sang their dawn song, she woke expecting to find herself unfurled and free.
“You will open soon enough, my darling,” the mother said. “Remember, time is wise and always does things in the right order.”
“But Momma, I’m tired of being a bud. I want to know what it’s like to unfold and stretch my petals.”
“I know, dear,” crooned the mother. “And a flower you will be. A sweet one, full of nectar for the bees and dancing in the sun. But right now, your job is to be a bud, the very best bud you can be.
“Do you feel that wiggling in your little petals?” she asked.
“Yes,” said the bud. “It kind of tickles.”
“That’s a sign that you’re growing. You’re itching to grow. And do you feel your heart filling up with golden nectar? You’re building up a store of treats to share with the world and to make seeds for the all tomorrows that will come. Who you are right now is very, very important. Pay attention to everything you feel. Isn’t it filled with life?”
“You’re right!” the little bud giggled. “It is!”
“And it’s just exactly the life that nature designed you to express,” said the mother. “I know it can be difficult to wait for what comes next, but who you are right now is a miracle, my sweet one. Be at peace, and I will tell you a story about what it’s like to be a grown up flower. You can dream about that as you grow. Dreaming about how you will be tomorrow is a fine way to spend time when you feel stuck with where you are. Would you like to hear the story?”
The little bud relaxed and felt the life force moving within her and thought about being a miracle, and about being the best bud she could be. “Yes, mother!” she whispered as she eased into the comfort of her curled petals. “Tell me the story.”
“Once upon a time,” the mother began, “a sweet little bud was born, filled with all she needed to become a radiant wild aster . . .”
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