My Grandma’s Garden

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Yesterday we spent Easter at my Grandma’s old house.  Really it belonged to my Great-Grandparents, and the house itself is nearing it’s 100th birthday.  It’s architecture style, the way the front and backyard is lined out, tell a story of long ago; it’s both mysterious and inviting.  Many family memories have been made there, my own mother’s memories, my Grandfather’s memories of being raised as a boy there with 3 sisters, not to mention my memories of being there with my own Grandparents!  It’s a generational house, passed down again and again.

In the backyard there is a secret place, a concrete slab that is easily hidden by grass and leaves that reveals the little handprints of my Grandpa and his sisters’ when they were young.  So much history is there.

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My Great Grandmother had a beautiful rose garden, she was English and they love their roses.  When she passed away, my Grandma took it over and made it her own.  I’m just not a rose bush girl… the thorns always seem to get me one way or another, no matter if I’m careful and wearing gloves, there always seems to be one thorn that is skilled in cutting through.  My favorite flowers (that look like roses) are Gardenias – the beautiful white, satiny petals, the rose-like shape, but the gentleness and friendliness of being thornless.

They are the “perfect rose” to me, perfumed with a heavenly scent, equipped with an ethereal beauty, and no danger of drawing blood.

But my family has loved roses, and they are so beautiful.

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In the midst of a bustling city, very close to the heart of our downtown, it is still a strange oasis – time stops when you’re wandering in their garden.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAOLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAOLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAGenerations of Beauty.

2014: Let Go

I love the prospect of a new year, another chapter added to your life, the expectation of what is to come, the known and the unknown… it’s exhilarating and fills my heart with happiness.

It’s true though, that you really can’t move forward unless you learn to let go.  My father used to talk to me about the interesting revelations he’d discover when reading great books, and one of them (possibly from Zen & the Art of Motorcycle Riding?) was about the concept of how you can’t really move forward until you let go of what you’re so tightly holding on to.  He explained that infants make the prime example of this, they might be holding on – with their adorable, tightly gripped fists – to any object, however, as soon as they see something they want next, they drop, or let go, of it (without even acknowledgment) and move on, both physically & mentally.  They usually forget the object even existed.

Adults have a much harder time letting go, much less forgetting what is in their past.  It’s work to let go.  It’s painful to go!  To me, every experience of growing up – in one way or another – is painful.  So letting go in life is no different in that yes, it is both work and painful because it means you’re growing.  We live in a society and culture that sadly would rather find the fast fix, so instead of letting go of what we need to, we try to keep them, our vices or past, and bring them with us into the future.  The problem with bringing things you should’ve let go into your beautiful future, is that your future was meant to be lived without them!  How can you ever achieve your full potential without first, letting go of what you need to?  How can the infant grab want he wants if his hands are still full?

To let go of a past, an addiction, false hopes, anger, unforgiveness, or bitterness.  To let go of fears so that you can confidently move forward in the future, to let go of the control you think you have, and find the great freedom in embracing the control you have of your own choices, brings a new year free of luggage, light weights, & joyfully happy!

Let yourself move on.  It’s time.

I know of no more encouraging fact than the unquestionable ability of man to elevate his life by conscious endeavor. Henry David Thoreau

 

What lies behind us

and what lies before us are small matters compared to

what lies within us.

Robert Frost