There is a daffodil in bloom outside my front door.And it reminds me of a true story I have heard in various versions.
There was once a woman who had a mother who spent her time planting daffodils on a hillside near her home. She became known for this activity so much so that she was called the Daffodil Lady. Year after year she returned to the same hillside and planted bulbs.This went on for years until the woman’s health began to wane and ultimately, one year she didn’t return to the hill.
Her daughter missed her mother very much and sought out a sense of being with her the Spring after her passing on the hill she knew her mother had paid loving attention to. The story goes that the daughter had not participated in her mother’s ritual, and that is understandable, is it not?
She had her own full life that no doubt kept her busy. Work, children, her own little family and choices for how she spent her time. She had left her mother’s house to start her own life as we all do and now she was flooded with a longing for her first mentor and caregiver, the one she graduated from but never stopped loving.
What did she find on that hillside, knowing her mother had been visiting it for years? Far more than she could have imagined. She expected to see daffodils, yes, but what she found was a hillside of gold. For as it goes, the daffodils that were planted also multiplied on their own schedule. Years of bulbs birthing new bulbs birthing new bulbs.
The daughter decided there and then to honor the memory of her mother by continuing the work her mother had begun, though she knew that her mother did it out of love for beauty. And in doing so as she did for all the years, she created a lot of beauty she hadn’t directly planted.
We can do that too. Our littlest acts of kindness, generosity and assistance are like seeds planted in fertile soils. Not only could they help the person directly before us, it could be the catalyst for a whole field of good works.
Figuratively speaking, I would like to spend my days helping to cause clusters of daffodils to bloom on hillsides everywhere year after year.
Imagine the hillside as a metaphor for your business, your writing goals, your blog’s content, your creative aspirations with the written and spoken word.
Let it be the metaphor for how I see you as the writer you are seeking to liberate.
Let the daffodil be the symbol for the body of work you are creating each time you write.
Corny? Sure, but it works for me.
What way would you create beauty in your world?
You know what I say all the time. Authentic Writing Provokes! Well it does. And with a sense of purpose and direction your writing will always create pathways between you and the people who need to be served and assisted by you, indirectly and directly.
It begins with practicing the art of writing in the first place. Know that I have so much gratitude for this community and the body of work we are creating.
Who is ready to suggest the pieces they would have self-published in a book of our own community. Our hill of daffodils?