An Ant On The Peony

We wrapped up our WeMN (Women Entrepreneurs of Minnesota) board meeting yesterday morning with a round of acknowledgement. “So everyone can get some flowers” explained the person who suggested it. I loved watching each person’s face light up and a smile wash over their face as they received their bouquet of appreciation.

I like the idea of metaphysical flowers.

I’ve been welcoming them into my morning meditation. I envision bodacious pink peonies blossoming in my heart. I envision my head filled to overflowing with fully bloomed roses like a grand pavé arrangement. I’ve been envisioning the cells of my body, trillions and trillions of them, like tiny buds unfurling in perfect health. It’s a soothing antidote to the roughness of the world.

A friend recently shared that she's been feeling “weepy lately at the world.” There’s much to weep for. But we can’t take it all on. It’s too much. Our brains weren’t made to take in the suffering broadcast from all corners of the world at once. Our hearts weren’t made for it.

So, flowers.

Recently I wrote about my newfound love of flower arranging. Ikebana, as it’s called in Japan. I’ve been paying closer attention to flowers. Planting them. Wondering about their wisdom. Asking them for advice. Connecting with my flower-ness.

Meanwhile, as my garden blooms outside, ants are taking over our home. Or, have I taken over theirs? Who came first? Who belongs and who doesn’t? And, who gets to decide? Ants are as much a part of nature as the peonies they love to crawl on. Perhaps they’re even more beautiful in their display of cooperation, productivity and sophisticated maneuvers. A single large black ant emerging from a soft pink peony draws me in. But when a colony of carpenter ants move into THIS side of the walls of my home, my wonder and appreciation of nature turns to attack and defense. I can’t help but feel the macrocosm in this microcosm. Many would shrug it off and say, “they’re just ants.” But I don’t feel that way.

This is the balance. Wanted and unwanted. Light and dark. Beauty and horror. To awaken is to hold both, neutral. To step back and observe opposites without attraction or aversion.

This is what Mother Nature does. A raging river that rips away a small town, a tiny bird emerging from its shell to be snatched up by a crow, a riot of purple shooting up from a field of salvia sage, a hundred shades of pink and orange sweeping across the Western sky, overgrown colonies of ants spilling down my front window like a waterfall. It’s not inherently good or bad, it just is.

I’ve been intentionally retreating out of doors whenever I feel weepy with the world to find that balance, to watch nature be as it is. And to notice my attraction and my aversion. These are the filters that color my worldview, tell stories about what I observe and give me my preferences. Freedom comes when I recognize the power I have to choose how I interpret what I see, to let the experience bloom in my mind and let it be as it is.