We Are All Late Bloomers
“We know that the flower doesn’t go from bud to blossom in one spritely burst, yet we crave stories of overnight success and spontaneous self-actualization, disinterested in the tedium of the blossoming, in the incremental ripening by which we become who we are, the innumerable tiny choices, the imperceptibly small steps by which we pave the path to our own destiny in the very act of walking it. We are each a continuous becoming, our future a rosary of presents strung along the strand of presence.” – Maria Popova
In my dreams I write like Maria Popova. In my dreams I read like Maria Popova. Her blog, Brainpicking.org, is vast collection of wisdom she has intellectually and emotionally traversed to share with her fortunate readers. From writers, philosophers, environmentalists, artists, seekers and creators of all kinds she unearths books, linking together sages across time. With poetry and prose, even animated shorts, she connects dots. So that you and I can remind ourselves, when we need to, there have always been people who care a great deal about the quality of the life they are living.
It took me a long time to believe in this process of becoming. This truth that we aren’t working towards being finished. We aren’t trying to get to a place, or a time when “it” will all be done. We will get to that time regardless of our efforts. So, we might as well pay attention to the “rosary of presents” that string together throughout our days.
Grief is a way that invites us to pay attention to that rosary. This has been my experience. That was when I began to see this process of becoming. And I see it happen with people in my role as a pastor. I don’t just mean when a person dies. I mean when by choice, or by circumstance, we accept something has ended. It has run its course. A relationship, a career, a part of our body. When we lean into letting go and soften our resistance to what must change.
As we change, something new is created. As we let go, something new is born. Some of you may know this scriptural metaphor, “unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.” (John 12:24)
That is when the “tedium of the blossoming,” as Popova describes, is anything but tedious. Because, we wake up! This is one reason why grief is so exhausting. Our ability to connect with our own hearts and the hearts of others is amplified, if we let it. Which is why we “move through” our grief. Something new is becoming within us, it is incubating, blossoming, ripening.
As we allow ourselves to move through it, our grief diminishes, but never leaves entirely. It becomes another present on that strand of ours.
Popova writes those opening lines as she introduces us, not to a work on grief, but a children’s book, “Here and Now.” A beautifully illustrated acknowledgement and encouragement to pay attention to the lives we are living. Children need encouragement. Adults need reminding.
For adults, grief can wake us up to this process of becoming. But it is happening all the time, if we choose to see it. There are many practices to help us pay attention. A gratitude list, a fifteen-minute meditation, a silent walk in the woods. We wake up when we slow down. So that all the “innumerable tiny choices, the imperceptibly small steps by which we pave the path to our own destiny” do not pass us by.
One more practice would be to check out her blog. Explore and encourage yourself to find wisdom that supports you in loving who you are, and who you are becoming.
