Oh, the healing, transformative
power of a floral bouquet!
I begin to speed past it in the market, and
suddenly freeze. I make a u-turn and take a few slow steps backward so that I can see it
again.
“Ahhh” I can’t help saying.
Look at the artistic drama of the
purples, yellows and whites! Each flower is so different, yet together they
inspire awe.
What causes you to stop dead in your tracks and proclaim the beauty? There must
be something. Several things must, if you are paying attention to the world
around you. Ah, but there is the tricky part, isn’t it? How do we avoid rushing
past beauty? How do we allow ourselves a pause to notice, and then to gasp. Who
are we to be in the presence of such wonder? Or to paraphrase Nelson Mandela,
who are we not to be?
It is our duty to ourselves to
stop, and really see what would call forth a reaction in us of childlike
discovery.
“Buy the bouquet!” my husband
proclaims. Oh I mustn’t. It is frivolous to spend money on something that won’t
last.
Ah, but nothing lasts in this
world. All thing pass, and change.
My husband buys me the
bouquet. And my momentary delight now
travels with me as I leave the market with beauty in my grasp.
Is life so serious that I cannot
allow myself a breather to cherish something lovely? My heart wells up in
gratitude for a husband who understands better than I do my need to prolong
these experiences of joyful amazement.
I carry beauty with me.
As I remove the cellophane at home, I have an urge to go work in the garden, even though the tasks are ugly—pruning, clearing away debris, mulching, sweeping and weeding. The bouquet inspires me that the
work I do now will generate more blossoms like the ones now royally ensconced indoors.
They have inspired hope.
