The Opening, the Becoming

By Chris Evans

I've been attempting to resist some self defeating thoughts and actions. Searching to find the God places after feeling swallowed by the maw of grief and trauma. Emerging bleary and awkward, stumbling toward the light. I try to imaging my dark times like flowering bulbs in winter. They require planting after the fatted heat of summer but before the lean of winter. Even as they lay dormant in the cold dark earth, they are in the process of becoming. Of opening. Without that preparation there is no chance of blossoms. My seasons don't always correspond with the calendar. I'd like to blame global warming :) The thing I find most helpful is seeing others show their beauty after fallow times. Twisting, rising, opening after the darkness has waned. Witnessing the becoming. Such a garden we make.  

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