Refill

Sometimes I wait too long to refill. I always notice my house plants drooping with thirst. Their little leafy arms grow weak. The weight of so much beauty and vibrancy becomes crippling without enough moisture to sustain it. Their little green arms wither to brown crisps. They can hardly hold their heads above the sunny window sill.
We are like flowers. We need moisture. We need other creature who fill us up, who help us remember to fill ourselves up.

Have you gone too long without filling up? Do you need to water your plants?

We’ve had plenty of rain here in Minnesota this past week. But have you let in this great gift? Have you loosened to allow this great, wet spring seep through your pores? Or are you holding too tight to let in what is good?

I’m heading to the Minnesota’s North Shore this weekend for a much needed vacation. I’m loosening a bit in order to refuel and come back ready to create again. Maybe you need to do the same?

I’m keeping this post short, and leaving you with this lovely poem by Mary Oliver. It’s a reminder that the wisdom of the earth is always all around us. She remembers us. All we have to do is give in.

I thought the earth remembered me,
she took me back so tenderly,
arranging her dark skirts, her pockets
full of lichens and seeds.
I slept as never before, a stone on the river bed,
nothing between me and the white fire of the stars
but my thoughts, and they floated light as moths
among the branches of the perfect trees.
All night I heard the small kingdoms
breathing around me, the insects,
and the birds who do their work in the darkness.
All night I rose and fell, as if in water,
grappling with a luminous doom. By morning
I had vanished at least a dozen times
into something better.
-Mary Oliver