Note: The poetry book winner will have to wait just a bit, probably till Friday. I’m loving reading all the responses but got distracted by work. How silly of me.
On this morning’s walk, I noticed that it’s time to tear up the streets again. In Phoenix, we do this in fall and winter rather than summer, because it’s kinder on the workers to not make them bake their brains out in summer.
I love seeing all the markings on the street, giving instructions how to route the pipes. I’ve done a post that talks about alien alphabets–and I mean outer space aliens. In Phoenix, you need to explain that phrase.
My eyes followed the red parallel lines that define some yet-undone path, and right in the middle was a small, brave weed, directly in the path of destruction. And what does the weed do? It doesn’t make up stories about how soon it will be ripped apart. Nope, it does what a plant is supposed to do–it blooms its heart out on its way to setting seeds for the future.
It doesn’t stop and say, “What’s the use?” or “I might as well just quit now.” Nope, it completes its purpose in life, not caring if it gets pulled up in 10 minutes or not. There is a chance that the work won’t start until the seeds have scattered and started new gold-blooming weeds.
And that is why I like to walk in the morning. Plants teach me about life. I now have another inner hero–Plant Wisdom. She needs to speak up when I stop looking at my life purpose and start to define myself by other people’s definition of worth.
—Quinn McDonald is a naturalist and a gatherer of metaphors. Her book, The Inner Hero Art Journal will be out in December.