I'm sitting up on the bed, looking up and out my window. Sitting up, looking out and up - there's something about the posture - relaxed and alert at the same time, silent inside, attentive to whatever I see. There's a young magnolia tree right outside the window and for a couple of months now I've been watching its buds slowly grow, so slowly I've had moments when I've doubted they are buds at all. But now the largest one I can see is beginning to get a little color and looks like it will open any day. I'm aware of the metaphor - all the unseen energy going into creating the bud, making it grow until it finally blossoms. All the energy inside me, moving me forward without my realizing it, until something happens and I find myself in a new place. Not necessarily blossoming, but changed, expanded, different...
I wonder just when I acquired faith that those unsensed wheels are turning in me and will lead me where I want to go. I who used to, and sometimes still do expect the worst. When did the wheels bring me this deeper faith, that there is always the possibility of change? When did I become able the break through my relentless self-consciousness and become like the tree, reaching up to the sun, enlarging all unaware?
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