“What in your life is calling you,
when all the noise is silenced,
the meetings adjourned,
the lists laid aside,
and the wild iris blooms by itself
in the dark forest,
what still pulls on your soul?”
I know, because I am one who writes about not hiding, yet I too have been hiding from some things. I sought noise, crowded my days with work and silence and worries. I made lists.
I slammed doors shut. I left them wrapped in thick chains with locks the size of mountains…only to find them open and light.
I buried things in unmarked places…and found them fluttering about through all the rooms in my heart like spring butterflies.
I summoned a mighty winter full of icy forgettings and sharp blizzards of indifference…and found only summer flowers humming with sunshine in a permanent, soft breeze.
We can hide all we want. And bury. And lock. And pretend.
We can feel nothing, by chance or by choice, and embrace the unfeeling with an almost pride…with cold, stubborn certainty.
We can think nothing, or too much…fill the space inside our moments, our hours and our days with many gifts and errors.
But always, the wild iris blooms by itself in the dark forest, and pulls on the soul.
And what is that which calls us?
What a difficult, irritating question to have to answer, again and again, regardless of whether or not we pursue the call or ignore it.
Yet what a necessary question…the one path to that one true blessing.
I answered today. Just once. Just a little.