"Thoughts are the seeds of life." - Cindy Reinhardt
One year ago this week, I launched the The Zone blog. It seemed to come forth not from a single seed, but from many planted throughout life. Yet, perhaps somewhere inside me was a single seed that finally was ready to germinate.
When I penned that first blog, I promised an eclectic approach to life and success with a focus on reclaiming personal power and supporting a shift to creating more care, compassion, collaboration and community. I hope that I’ve fulfilled that as much for you as I have for me.
I said that I wanted to challenge our thinking (yours and mine!), poking around the edges of what’s possible, exploring how nature and ancient wisdom define and guide us to success. Only you know whether these weekly excursions have elicited that for you. For me, the discipline of this weekly post has sharpened my observation of nature and self, bringing forth a sense of personal satisfaction.
When I launched last August, I didn’t know that I’d soon be in the midst of moving. I had no (conscious) idea that the home I was offered as temporary housing by a friend would, like dog in a shelter looking for its ‘forever’ family, claim me as its steward. But somewhere, like the seeds that burst forth The Zone, different seeds were ready sprout in new ways.
Those seeds of home, quiet, nurture and nature brought forth this August’s launch of Dragonfly House Crestone. I welcomed my first guests to this place of peace last week. The next guests arrive later today. It seems that it is a part of my natural rhythm that seeds of change bring forth blooms in the form of new (ad)ventures in August. That’s a new awareness for me to reflect on as I look ahead.
Every seed has within it, the potential to develop fully into its full essence. The pine cone brings forth a beautiful tree. The pea pod, nutritious food; and marigold seeds, splashes of color and protection from tomato loving critters. These, like loving thoughts, deserve our care and nurturing.
Other seeds, like the tiny stickers that grab Luke’s fur to get a ride to fertile ground are like those thoughts that persist, yet don’t serve us at all. I think that I’m learning to be as meticulous with my thoughts as I am in combing Luke after each walk to remove those stickers, refusing to give them new, fertile ground to grow on next year.
Reflection for the Week: What thoughts do you need to comb from the fur of your consciousness?