Writing for 5 minutes on Friday from Lisa-Jo's site this morning.
I couldn't help but think of that song that says "I'm zipping up my boots, going back to my roots, to the place of my birth, back down to earth..."
I have sometimes thought that travel makes me rootless, but maybe it's living so far from home the call to return to my roots is just distantly whispering. Sometimes it pulls really, really hard and right now, I'm rather like my orchid that is sitting just over there. I can see it's spidery roots bursting from it's pot and stretching out for freedom. Orchids have a shallow root ball and can easily be transplanted. Yet they can still produce beauty and their fragility is stunning. Am I an orchid in this season of trial? It's been a long one - and I don't see much beauty, nor do I see spidery roots bursting for freedom.
Root bound.... like my cyclamen.... My mum said don't plant it in a pot too big because it likes to be root bound. And it does.... it creates the most amazing blooms when it was in a too tiny pot. When I did transplant it.... it didn't survive. It got lost in the space surrounding it.
Do we just need to be held close and tight to feel safe and bloom, or do we need to be like that mighty oak tree, the seed that fell on good soil and just keeps on growing, it's roots growing surer and deeper and more steadfast every day, strong enough to weather every storm.....