The rose bush in my garden seems really confused. It is laden with buds at all stages of blossoming, from the most tightly shut to the ‘nearly there’ stage. The pinkish-red petals are waiting to burst forth in their full glory from the deep green stems against the whitish-blue sky filled with a watery sun. It’s neighbour has self-destructed, may be due to my over-enthusiastic pruning last year or the wrath of a long harsh winter. May be no reason at all. It is much colder than it should be for this time of year.
It is perfect. Yet it’s all dying. I am witnessing the cycle of life unfold before my eyes. Birth, to full development, to decay.
The rose bush speaks to me of an order beyond my comprehension, a mystery for which I feel a deep and abiding trust even as my mind protests.
Why do things turn out the way they do? The seemingly immovable Himalayas buckled and much of Nepal shattered. Trying to understand the intricacies of karma is well beyond human capacity. We might think that this is because of that, or that because of this, or that bad things are bad, and good things are good, when in actual fact life is more complex, and more interesting than that.
Within every challenge, every obstacle, lies the potential for both learning and kindness. It re-establishes my faith in the human spirit. This kind of trust recognises that life by its very nature is a dance of opposing and interrelated forces where things break apart and come together, over and over again.
Vulnerability is a beautiful thing.