trusting the organic process of human blossoming

3 Oct


There is a truth or a myth, I don’t know which, that the blooming of a Peony is symbiotically related to ants.  I am unwilling to determine the truth of it, that ants eat the sugary coating off of the tightly bound blossom petals of the Peony bud and allow it to blossom in its amazing glory, because I enjoy the truth of it beyond the factual validation.  I cleave to the metaphor.

Humans are an exotic and wonderful bud in the universe who have forgotten how to blossom.  Our blossoming is actually as natural as all the flowers that we observe on this planet, yet most human beings are stuck in the tight bud phase – We have forgotten to blossom.

This blossoming is organic.  This unfolding  is not a doing but just the way the petals of our innate beauty unfurl  when we allow life to assist us.  We allow the ants to march up our stem; we don’t resist the nibbling of their little mouths.  We begin to feel a loosening of the petals; we allow the sugar coating that inhibits our development to disintegrate as what was sweet before becomes untenable –  naturally.

What needs to fall away, naturally will, if we allow it to do so.

From a real human life, I have found  that while I  may feel the need to list, to plan, to orchestrate my life journey, the growth spurts occured from within and without without the assistance of mind.  TV fell away on its own without a struggle, discordant friends or jobs or food or activities or locations all seemed to dissolve and disappear into the air at just the time and order in which they were best for me.  And though it may have felt desolate and lonely as these things fell away,  what came in next to fill the void was as amazing as this blossom right here – so soft and vulnerable and neck to a sharp knife brave.  This blossoming.  Beyond what my mind could ever conceive.


What is it I’m trying to say that first struck a true cord in me?  My own private epiphany?  We are here together like a field of sunflowers, (another flower comparison this morning, really?) and some of the enormous audacious heads are starting to face up toward the sun.  We are allowing the blossoming to occur.  It is so funny in a field of flowers to know that what is occurring here is nothing special;  it is just what flowers do, bloom.

Our field is odd in the universe in that the blossoming is co-opted, hidden;  we humans have been lulled into a dream and we do not even know that we are flowers, we do not know that we can blossom.  And that is okay too!  Every human can choose for herself whether to remember to flower or not; not every field chooses the full on glory of  every flower face   turned up toward the sun – but wouldn’t that be magnificent!

I recently listened to the latest installment of these most organic new teachings of Neil Kramer – and felt this response to his demarcation points that we all hit with the image of our flowering, the remembrance of my own way on the path as it has automatically allowed me to let go, let go, and let go again of all that does not serve me.  I only had to carry on – and what was no longer appropriate for where I found myself – fell away, as I allowed it to do so.

The ants on my tight bud self were uncomfortable; I often wanted to beat them back, but now I see more clearly; each discomfort is helping me to blossom.

21 Responses to “trusting the organic process of human blossoming”

  1. britlight October 3, 2013 at 2:14 pm #

    Love this! Somehow I found myself in the same field as you, I think, and shyly, slowly, we are facing the sun. But, I do have my tv on sometimes. 😉

    • marga t. October 3, 2013 at 9:15 pm #

      I love being in the same field 🙂 full of our sunny faces! I have my computer, no doubt! All as it is, until it is not – or something like that!

  2. Awake October 3, 2013 at 10:36 pm #

    I read your post morning at work but had to wait until now to comment (darn work). Anyway, Marga you have had this way of lifting me up with your words just when it is needed the most. I love this metaphor of the ants eating off this sugary coating from my tightly wound bud. I imagined myself the sunflower – face stretching and reaching for that sun, and allowing myself to blossom, REmembering, I am this flower, so simple yet powerful. It is the forgetting that makes my experience of life mundane, but the remembering makes all of these discomforts have meaning. And all we have to do is carry on, not really let go. I remember a story Mooji told about how he needed to let go of some of his art students who had been coming over to his house every weekend, and in his process of his own blossoming, this entertainment no longer fit. So he asked the Universe what to do, because he didn’t want to hurt anybody and he said that they just stopped coming over. There was several of them and all them just stopped coming. No words spoken. The ants came and ate all the food at the picnic and everyone went home. 🙂

    • marga t. October 4, 2013 at 9:03 am #

      Ah, so overlapping that your words have this way as well, especially the timing of your comments here. I was having a bit of a sugar encrusted resistance of an evening as tasks and teen dynamics mounted – and the letting go or just carrying on was once again put front and center. I had heard that Mooji tale, but had forgotten it and your reframing of its connection here is illuminating – The end of the feast and simple moving on of the ants – so great – Erin. Wishing you ease at your darn work 🙂 flow today, SS.

  3. Alison October 4, 2013 at 12:42 am #

    I have come to love the ants! They are welcomed with open arms (bud?) leading to a little more, and then a little more, and then a little more, blossoming. Thank you for this lovely metaphor. I’m so blessed to be in your field, slowly turning my face to the sun.

    • marga t. October 4, 2013 at 9:10 am #

      The open arm (bud) welcome to the ants seems to me to speed up the process – so Bravo, Alison. Many experiences seem a struggle, then as I learn to do the welcoming you describe, the whole thing seems to work itself out, with an ease and speed that astonishes me. I love the view of being both beside you as you and I are turning y/our face, as well as looking out at the field and enjoying the beautiful turning! I hear the song, I like to Be A part of BA, Buenos Aires, Big Apple. JOy to you there 🙂 XO!m

  4. lauriesnotes October 5, 2013 at 9:18 am #

    Love this..”What needs to fall away naturally will..”
    So true.
    I like how you repeated the let go..
    I am amazed there is still more to let go. I guess it continues..the falling away and blossoming.
    Love –

    • marga t. October 5, 2013 at 2:52 pm #

      I guess it does continue on and on until we go elsewhere! – thank you for reflecting your beautiful hibiscus face with me here. Sometimes the veil slips a bit and I get a whiff and a glance at everyone’s true beauty – it takes my breath away! Much love to you, today and every day, Laurie.

  5. Sangeeta October 6, 2013 at 6:56 am #

    Loved this one Marga, Every poetic, profound and beautiful line. Thank you 🙂

    • Sangeeta October 6, 2013 at 6:59 am #

      Flipped it into my Serene Reflection Flipboard, shared on FB and tweeted as well 🙂

    • marga t. October 6, 2013 at 3:43 pm #

      Thank you, Sangeeta! So nice of you to visit, read, and share with me. The planet feels very small through such connecting and sharing. I loved my visit over to the stats page with all the clicks from India. I’ll be over to Serene Reflections, shortly 🙂 X!

  6. Michael October 7, 2013 at 12:41 am #

    That image of all of us as unfolding buds in a common field, drinking in the light of a shared star, flowering in our own time, all of us together, was really powerful. It sent a shiver up my spine! Michael

    • marga t. October 7, 2013 at 4:03 pm #

      Those shivers are becoming my “in House” truth detection system 🙂 So cool that you share that sensation. It does feel like a field of flowers is what we are similar to, here together – though I enjoyed your field of dreams pov, this morning, immensely! Off to class but I am taking along Hafiz for coaching.

      • Michael October 7, 2013 at 10:30 pm #

        Good luck with your curve ball!

  7. The Retired Seeker October 7, 2013 at 4:25 pm #

    Chills on this one! Peonies are my favorite and loved the metaphor. Often wondered about all the seeds in the field that are planted at the same time, most face the sun and blossom while others never quite make it even though they are given the same nutrients and sun…. This seems to be norm for nature, I guess. Great post!

    • marga t. October 7, 2013 at 9:42 pm #

      Interesting to ponder that we are in the field together yet separated by the illusion of distance. I draw from this knowing that we are in essence here turning, as Alison said, together. The ones who are ahead too, with us – and the ones who right now are choosing to not bloom, loved and blessed as well! So nice to see your lovely face today – a blossoming from open palms! 🙂

  8. barbarafranken October 12, 2013 at 2:01 pm #

    I just love this post dear marga… divine sister… Blossoming… Peonies are my favourite too… and the ants are indeed our helpers… Barbara….

    • marga t. October 12, 2013 at 5:12 pm #

      So cool to share a love of Peonies with you, soul sister, and thank you for the helping information. When I had my first house with the wonderful surprise of plants appearing magically from the previous owner’s efforts out of the dirt so magically, I diligently brushed away the ants from the firm Peony bulbs, thinking I was helping the plant. Makes me smile and send a virtual hug to that well-meaning marga from those days. I hope your Saturday was as lovely as ours is right now – such beautiful Fall Days! X!

  9. solrevel October 14, 2013 at 12:19 am #

    So many little ants this week for me, and some of them quite serious and heartbreaking. I like this fresh perspective. Perspective. Sometimes I cling to that protective sweetness, and the little ants say, no no no, time to bloom, time bloom. Thank you for this! A

    • marga t. October 14, 2013 at 12:31 pm #

      So many things we say from the older forms of expressing, such as, I’m sorry you have had such a week, no longer apply because I am not sorry. What I feel when I hear your experience is a heart squeeze in unison with you. I am learning to trust a week of the rough-feeling sweetness stripping in our lives, but it still does squeeze! But I feel it with you and see the blossoming of you as well! Unknowing of the source of your heartbreak, I find my mind leaps to the all-engrossing role of “parent” that we do share in common. Sometimes I wonder about this whole child raising experience, in the thick of it. Here comes another over-the-top metaphor, sorry, but I wonder if the rocky crust on my heart is tossed into the rock tumbler:
      the rock tumbler of parenthood. Feels more accurate than little ol’ ants.
      So nice to know/feel when the ants, the tumbling, the squeezing gets ratcheted up, we are not alone. we are Alone, together 🙂 Much Love, Ms. A.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: