Tag: metaphors

Letting Go…Probably Good

In this autumn season of my life,* I’m finding it necessary to let go of many things, from long-held beliefs to long-admired people. No doubt you, too, have found this to be a struggle. Sometimes you just have to let go of the metaphorical rope and see where you end up.

I have been there, and have the T-shirt.

This can work literally, as well. Today when we got back to the ranch, the weather was a little better than when we left town. I felt empowered to ride Apache in the afternoon rather than my usual morning rides on days when it’s over 105°.

I even groomed him completely rather than a quick removal of saddle-area dirt. That’s good, because all the horses appear to have rolled in the dirt after our .004” of rain yesterday. He was orange. Then I saddled up and headed out for a wee ride. I didn’t plan to trot much, since our ground is so hard.

They are resting up, I guess, having escaped after we left. Drew is STILL rolling.

After warming up (our muscles—at 95° we were already warm) I swung into the saddle, only to realize I’d forgotten his bridle. Fine. I “let go of the reins” and we rode around doing circles, figure eights, side passes (sorta), and backing in the round pen. Then we went outside and walked around the pen in both directions, finally heading back to the tack room, where the bridle was waiting.

I ended the ride on the high note of riding with no reins. We were both pleased with ourselves, I think.

Let’s pause to enjoy May-July on the temperature blanket.

If only letting go in other areas could be as easy…wait, that wasn’t easy! We’ve worked years to get here and needed lots of help. Aha! That applies to all areas of life!

And just like how I didn’t know how well the ride would go until I tried, I’m going to have to keep trying to let go of the reins and let go of patterns and people who are holding me back from the peaceful and productive life I want to enjoy from now on.

I hope my roots are as sturdy as this oak’s

I’ll keep practicing and rely on wise mentors as I get better at surrounding myself with strength and love while letting go of anything that makes me anxious, sad, or powerless.

* In my optimistic view, spring is birth to 30 years, summer 31-60, autumn 61-90, and winter begins at 90. Why not?

Bloom Where You’re Planted

Those of you who haven’t been quarantined your whole lives have probably heard this saying before. It’s the first thing that popped into my head when I saw that today’s UU Lent word is bloom.

Let’s see how to do that. Image by @dmotif via Twenty20.

It being spring in glorious central Texas, you see blossoms everywhere. They look especially vibrant this year, since it’s been cloudy or rainy most of the time, and there is a lot of very green grass to contrast with it. I don’t think they are what I’m going to talk about today.

Bloom is a verb. When a plant blooms, it puts all its energy into reaching out to other plants, insects, birds, and animals. It sends pollen out to make seeds. Then the females put even more energy into taking what they got and making fruit.

That’s how I see the idea of blooming where you’re planted. Just like a plant, we don’t get to choose where we do our growing. Some of us get nice rich soil and lots of nurturing, others of us get placed on the sidewalks of life.

Burr clover can bloom on the driveway.

Right now a lot of us are planted in an isolated place. I’m even in a basement, for heaven’s sake. What is helping me a lot is taking the situation I’m in and learning from it. While I’m all cozy in here, I’m thinking of ways to be a better person, do my work better, and contribute to my community.

Blue-eyed grass is one of my favorite signs of spring at the ranch.
I’m planted right here, Mommy. I’ll bloom later, okay? I’m also metaphorically exhausted.

When I bloom, I’ll be able to make the best possible flower, and we can all do that, no matter where we’re starting from. You take what you’re given and make the best of it, or not, I guess.

Let’s hope that the fruit we eventually make from all the introspecting, preparation, and hard work we are doing to grow and bloom will be sweet, nutritious, and strong, so we can plant more ideas.

I’m metaphorically worn out now. Are you? What do you think about when you think of blooming?