Flower for the Day Daisy 5-20-24

The oxeye daisy (Leucanthemum vulgare) is ubiquitous for which I love it. 

It can and does show up anywhere. Here it is in back of the house.

And its right purty.

Here is a poem that is challenging.

Let me fall if I must. The one I will become will catch me.

~ Baal Shem Tov

The rain falling from the cloud, caught by--and becoming-- the thirsting tree, the shining drops falling from leaves to the ancient alchemical Earth, the sunlight falling, caught by hungry life; everything is falling into what it will become.

Once, I moved in the world as though I knew my way, as though I had a map and a name for my becoming; I didn't.

I pedaled through the air of my life wildly, panicked and struggling to feel the ground beneath me.

I couldn't land, too fearful of meeting my imagined life, doubting the woman who held my spirit would be there to catch me.

If only I had seen that we're all falling, as long as it takes, till we meet the garden where all our seeds have been planted, the room of our dreams, the home we know to be ours, our own and only holy self.

And then we fall again.

If only I had noticed the tiny fledgling tumble from his bending wind-tossed branch and how he was caught by flight.

If only I'd seen Yeshua fall into his waiting Christ-ness, or Siddhartha cradled by the enlightened Buddha.

We cannot know what mysteries will unroll into time when we let go, only that we're free to bide, to breathe, transform and catch our truer selves when the falling ends, and none of the tipping energy that sends us softly swirling or suddenly down, is wasted.

Everything deepens those who allow it.

I have seen lives fall into the arms of the love they became, and sinners fall into certain saints.

We spend lifetimes, days like centuries, catching and releasing the Sacred One we are, learning to leap into wonder, trusting it will meet us as we merge and fall, like the fledgling, into something as surprising as flight.

And when at last we must drift down into our silent, waiting tombs, we'll know the light we always were and bow to the wonder we are.

It's finished, we'll say, our culminating yes. and we will become our light.

In the garden, blossoms flash into dark, honeyed cherries ready to be eaten by hungry life; everything is falling into what it will become.

 Catherine "Kitty" O'Meara

If you enjoyed this work I suggest you look up Baal Shem Tov, an amazing man.