I love the flowers blooming in my yard that I may or may not have pulled last year thinking they were weeds. Or maybe they didn't even pop up last May, I am not sure. All I know is that right now in this time of fullness and joy and tears, they seem like a gift to me that I didn't ask for or even deserve. But there they are, blooming fully around me in yellows, reds, purples, oranges, pinks. just for me and my kitchen, and my desk at work, and my heart. And I pick them, and they come back, ready to give me more beauty and grace.
They feel like their own little miracle which I need right now. I remember devouring Sabrina Ward Harrison's first book and work of art, "Spilling Open". and then "Brave on the Rocks" and I know there are more but those are the 2 that I snuck away on my lunch breaks from Marshall Fields during a college summer to read.
There was just something about the way that she let herself spill out her words with colors and art like they were no lines between them. And for her there weren't. I don't know philosophically or worldview wise if we are in sync but I resonated then and still now with her expression and how she uses that to experience life. So today it is the tulips and conversations with friends that spill open in front of me. and whether or not I place them in a vase, they bring me beauty.