You and I have spoken all these words, but as for the way/ we have to go, words// are no preparation. There is no getting ready, other than/ grace. My faults// have stayed hidden. One might call that a preparation!/ I have one small drop// of knowing in my soul. Let it dissolve in your ocean./ There are so many threats to it.// Inside each of us, there’s continual autumn. Our leaves fall and are blown out// over the water. A crow sits in the blackened limbs and talks/ about what’s gone. Then// your generosity returns: spring, moisture, intelligence, the scent of hyacinth and rose// and cypress. Joseph is back! And if you don’t feel in/ yourself the freshness of// Joseph, be Jacob! Weep and then smile. Don’t pretend to know// something you have not experienced.// There’s a necessary dying, and then Jesus is breathing again./ Very little grows on jagged// rock. Be ground. Be crumbled, so wildflowers will come up/ where you are. You’ve been// stony for too many years. Try something different. Surrender.

Rumi

“Very little grows on jagged rock. Be ground. Be crumbled, so wildflowers will come up where you are.” Today I think about jagged rock and ground. About crumbling, dissolving, of being down on my knees. I think of Autumn. Knowing beyond seasons. Temporal. Impermanent. Present. That is the lesson and beauty age. One of my favorite people in the world reminds me to bloom where I am planted. Find clear water to drink in life. Find soil rich with experience and wisdom. Find warm sunlight to nurture yourself and others. To bloom is to surrender. To surrender is to thrive.