We are full of wildflowers.

Gardens of emotion,

Meadows of feeling, brimming with beauty.

We spend our lives turning away from feeling. Pulling at the roots of anxiety and depression, before they can bloom. Spraying the meadows of fear and anger with synthetic weedkillers. Ripping at the budding emotions that spring from the banks of the rivers that run through us.

We use quick fixes as a pesticide. We only wish the good buds to bloom. The good feelings to grow. Sugar, alcohol, sex, drugs, relationships, money, self-help and religion.

Anything not to sit, feel and welcome in. Yet our pain is always just a split second behind us. When we stop running to catch our breath, it is there. When we’re tired of running, we finally stop. Broken and breathless. Exhausted by the constant maintenance of the pristine garden we have forcibly curated inside ourselves. We pause. The weeds begin to creep back in. Moved by our feelings, something deep inside us surrenders. We are lost and have tired out every method of escape. What now?

We sink deeply into the present. The only place we can turn. Nature has Her way and begins to reclaim the immaculate plastic garden we have desperately maintained, and we let Her. We stand back and watch the re-wilding of our meadows. The wildflowers in full bloom, their roots strong and their beautiful petals joyfully reaching towards the light.

At Her mercy, we surrender.

We meet ourselves in the meadow and we gather. Gathering our feelings like a posy of wildflowers, with a gentle touch and wide eyes full of wonder. We hold them close to our hearts with love and nourishment. We inhale their delicate fragrance and caress their velvet petals with our entire attention. We see the beauty in each flower equally.

We cherish the richness of this moment and see that reflected back in ourselves. There is life in our feelings. An invitation to be more alive than ever.

We must meet