yellow trees

seasons, growing and fear

ultimately, I know that when it’s hard soon come, it’ll be easier. the tides won’t feel so high and they’ll eventually surface onto the seabed, blending into one another, washing away.

and, with honesty comes vulnerability,  I’m still learning how to plant seeds of hope and faith. where the motions of sitting in the garden, in the mess, with gloves on, restlessly digging up dirt and compost heaps, in the hope of trying to figure out how to plant seeds and let them grow; to be okay with them growing and faltering, with learning to not be disappointed when they don’t sprout because not every flower grows in winter and not ever plant blossoms in spring. in the quiet learning that nature takes care of itself, and in learning from nature, taking from its book, I must also learn that from dust I was made, and to dust, I’ll return.

and God, it’s so morbid but, it’s Truth and you can’t hide from Truth. it’s embedded within us, despite our denial and defiance of it. Truth cloaks me and nestles with me when the sun is shining and when the rain pours – it’s never changing, yet ever-changing. at times, sitting in the comfort of the rain and dwelling in the cold with nature surrounding can be tranquil; there’s no need for worry or stress, despite being drenched knowing that staying in the rain will do you no good – child, you’ll get sick.  and, despite its fellow feeling, its odd comfort that the dust of the earth forms my being, I must learn that seeds can be planted, nurtured, fed and loved, with consistency whilst giving them a home to abide in. emotions aren’t bad, it’s how they’re approached, and how I let them sit that determines how I move forward.

because, without emotions, without love, they will the seeds will falter and I must learn that even if I feel like my leaves are changing colour, autumn is nearing. I can bloom in autumn, just as much as in winter. I can rest in Truth, and I can also make my home. it’s okay to grow and be uncomfortable in your growth, even if weariness may arise. there is peace in the unknown, the quiet stillness of uncertainty that brings bliss to life that cannot be captured. the opportunity to slow down, to watch seeds grow in the grown and to have faith that what has been planted will bring life, no matter how the seasons change.