Seeds

The seeds are sprouting. It is that time of year. Newness. Warmth. Life cycles spinning the tale of beginnings. This year is different though in my glass house of existence. Sure, there are seeds birthing on the porch turned incubator. Seeds that will live in the garden and blossom right on divine schedule. Yes, their fruits will flower and nourish my body and soul and be spoken of for as long as I can digest and walk upon the earth. Those seeds already flourish daily change in me with their turn, turn, turn. This year, other seeds bloom. Ones Johnny Appleseeded long ago. Seeds of words and kisses. Seeds of things said and unsaid. Seeds planted on the beach, in the work place, at school, and along the twists and turns on this path we call life.

Seeds of great magic. Magic so great it has the first girl I french kissed (she taught me well, I have been told) read my words over forty years after first contact and enjoy their taste and tongue in cheek. It takes Sorcerers at their best to push words through a lowly servant that are shown years later in foreign lands and inspire translation and connections across cultural divides. Healing magic when a dead addict speaks through a medium sized talent and sparks recovery and sharing. The magnetic magic of truth spoken that collects kindred and kind, forges hope, and attracts changes for the betterment of all. Seeds of smiles in hallways back then opened doors for visits now as named strangers become close friends. Brilliant seeds that found bright lights in the darkest places as primal explorers herd together. Seeds when Spartan ways yield Athenian insights.

This season reminds me that I do indeed reap what I sowed. Sowed right in the back yard that is now my sister’s. Sowed on streets named Maple, Main, Carr, Forest, Seeley, Cottage, and Beachway. Sowed in the workplace, on base, at the best of times and at the worst of times. We do reap what we sow. Looks like a bumper crop this year. Come see my garden grow.