Posts Tagged ‘remember’
Tucked away in a corner of the garden, the shy forget-me-nots blossom, singing their little notes of blue.
The legends that attend them are many and pull at the strings of the heart, for their song is one that all hearts sing: “Remember me; tell me that I mattered.”
Oh, little flower, spring would not have been the same without you. Every note in life’s song contributes to its sweetness and is needed, and precious, and dear.
The morning woods glistened with a fresh sifting of powdered snow. Spring doesn’t do green overnight.
Still, the robins are returning, and just look how blue that sky!
Enjoy the bright sparkle of snow while you may. Tuck the sight of it away to pull out some morning in July when heat rises faster than the sun and you long for a cool breeze. Remember this sifting of snow and how you listened for the song or robins.
The sun was already well up into the sky when the little pine woke. As he peered out across the still waters of the pond, something felt different to him. He listened deeply, but he couldn’t quite tell what had changed.
His mother set a bowl of porridge before him and sat down by his side. “Little Pine,” she said softly, “The great oak released Red Leaf and his mother last night. They’ve gone back Home.”
“Oh, then that’s what’s different. I could tell that something had changed,” Little Pine said. Then, remembering the previous day’s adventures, he chuckled and said, “Red Leaf sure had a great last day!”
Mother Pine smiled. “I’m glad you got to spend it with him,” she said.
“Me, too,” Little Pine said. “Haha! Wait until the other leaves get to hear his report! They’re going to love it.”
The mother and son sat in silence for a while, remembering with joy all the wonderful times that they had spent with their friends. Forest creatures don’t mourn when their friends’ earth adventures come to an end. They know that the love they share connects them always, across all the dimensions and beyond all time. Only the human creatures believed in the myth of death.
“What shall we do to celebrate them, Mother?” Little Pine asked as last.
Mother thought for a few moments, then grinned. “I know! I’ll make a ground acorn cake for dinner. And you can find something special in the forest today to remind you of Red Leaf always.”
“What a great idea, Mother!” Little Pine laughed. Then he finished his porridge and ran out the door, eager to see what special token he could find.
The little leaf’s mother tucked him into bed right after supper, and as she always did, she kissed him tenderly on the forehead and wished him the sweetest of dreams.
He fell asleep immediately, drifting easily away. Fragments of his day danced through his dreams. His visit to the Elves’ house, the images of troupes of fairies dancing on the ornamental drums, and the wondrous songs of the golden grasses all wove themselves together. He saw his feet racing across a forest floor dappled with sunlight and striped with the shadows of the great trees. He felt the softness of moss and the crunch of fallen leaves beneath his feet as he ran.
Then the music of the grass choir returned and lifted him gently above the ground. It carried him high into the treetops and upward into a vastness where glittering stars hung in a velvet sky. He floated there for quite some time, borne on the flow of the choir’s soft music.
As he gazed at the stars, a cloud of light drifted toward him, shining with silver and gold. And when it was right before his eyes, the image of a shimmering silver maple leaf appeared and it spoke to him.
“I heard the question in your heart, my child,” it said, “as you ran across the layers of fallen leaves. I heard you ask, ‘Where do they go?’ and I knew that you had forgotten the place where your essence dwells. That happens when your spirit inhabits its earthly form.
“Because your love is so strong for those with whom you danced in the summer winds, I wanted to remind you of your heart’s true home.
“It was your request to have this earth adventure, to experience being an oak leaf. Do you recall? You and all your leaf friends had to practice a long time to be slow and steady enough to hold molecules of matter in your energy patterns. You had to study all the kinds of magic that a leaf performs and to master them. And when you finally passed all the tests, we sent you to curl inside a tight bud, right here, on this tree, in this forest. Remember?”
“Yes! Yes! I do remember, Silver Leaf!” the little oak leaf exclaimed.
“Then you remember, too, that when your tree releases your leaf-form, you float to the ground below. And the instant you touch it, your spirit is released, and your adventure complete, and you wake to find yourself back home, with all your beloved friends.”
“Yes, Silver Leaf,” the little leaf sighed, his heart filled with gladness. “And in the meantime, I get to be here, right now, as the Festival of Light unfolds! This is even better than I ever could have dreamed.”
And as he spoke, the Silver Leaf faded away. And the little one floated through the velvet, star-sparkled sky on the music of grasses until he was fast asleep.
Their hospitable air strokes our skin with the gentleness of down and is perfumed with the fragrance of green, growing. Heaped clouds soften the sky.
They invite us to take our ease, to slow ourselves enough to breathe in the richness that surrounds us, to savor it, and to fold it, lovingly, in our memory’s store.
“Remember,” their breezes whisper. “This day is a gift of joy, given for you.”
Tuck this sprig of sun and sky into a pocket near your heart. Imagine that it’s my smile. Imagine that, thinking of you, I know nothing but happiness. Imagine that for me you are the essence of springtime, forever young and laughing.
Imagine that I set small tokens everywhere, just to let you know: twinkling stars in the sky, sunlit ripples on a lake, tiny birds with the voices of small, silver bells. And forget me not, sweet one, for I will remember you beyond the end of days.
A few feet away, the first ice is forming on the edges of the creek. The last thing you would expect to see is a dandelion. Yet there it was, smiling for all it’s worth.
And how it touched me, this one, sweet, cheery beam in the midst of autumn’s subdued colors, singing its joy regardless.
Here was spring’s last laugh, a bright coin of hope to tide me through winter’s coming days.
And although the snows will come and the frost etch the window panes, her laughter will remain in my heart. And I will hear her gaily singing, “Remember me! Remember me!”
It is okay to be weary. We have only so much energy to spend on any given day. Weariness means we need rest.
But it’s not in the interest of your well-being for weariness to become a way of life. If you pull away long enough, you will cease to be. You are made for reaching out, for discovering. Pulling away from things day after day means you need to remember.
And here are things to recall: You are capable of smiling and of kindness. You can be curious. You can try on new thoughts. You can be helpful. You can be brave, if only enough to open the door and stand outside and feel the fresh air moving in and out of your lungs.
You are capable of seeing goodness and beauty, because goodness and beauty live within you.
This moment, this one right now, is brand new. You are capable of letting the past be passed. You can imagine today is your birthday.
Would you color it with love? With amusement and delight? With deep appreciation? With thanksgiving and joy?
If that’s beyond you, and sometimes it is, why not send acceptance, repentance, compassion? Or maybe determination, and hope?
Even on a workday, you can send out engagement, be focused in the flow, swimming steadily along, headless of everything and yet connected to it all.
But every now and then, remember you are sending forth tiny ripples, and fill them with a thank you and a smile.