My friend, Rachel, sent me this beautiful piece of Buddhist inspired writing:
Wildflower Saints
There are so many (leaves). Piles of them. I take pleasure in their abundance. More saints than you could ever dream of. Each one singular. Each one itself. Yellow, red, orange, parchment. They sail down in the autumn air like fearless sky divers. They are so trusting-letting go, completely. Not questioning as I do… Will it be safe? Will I understand? Will it hurt?…stalling, qualifying, questioning, instead of releasing and taking to the air…
The wildflower saints provoke me to remember the steadiness of return, year after year. They tell me that one does not need to be cultivated to be beautiful. GUNILLA NORRIS
