The Fine Art of Blooming
By Cathleen Elise Rossiter
“I hope you will go out and let stories happen to you, and that you will work them, water them with your blood and tears and your laughter till they bloom, till you yourself burst into bloom.”
– Clarissa Pinkola Estes –
As spring marches steadily toward the moment when she hands over her mantle to summer, my garden persistently puts forth waves of blooms from the daffodils in April to the rhododendron, lilac, and apple in May, and the peony and iris in June. Some blooms are brand new; others at their peak, while still others rapidly fade. These blooms universally symbolize the struggles and triumphs of life and our human resilience amid difficulties.
These blooms – individually and collectively – also represent, for me, the effect that each human being has to bring happiness, comfort, and beauty to those around us each time we allow our truest selves to shine through – the person hidden in our core waiting to burst forth upon the world.
This task of finding our hidden selves is not complicated but it can be difficult. In the case of Vincent van Gough, his life was filled with the struggle to find himself amid his struggles with mental illness. He focused all of his endeavors to discover his style and identity as an artist – therefore, as he mistakenly believed, who he was as a person – on imitating other artists that he admired and wanted to emulate. He thought that his imitation of a master painter would make him successful, well liked, equal to or greater than the masters. Eventually, he was able to make the changes and adjustments to how he painted so that his methods and finished works reflected his vision of the world and how he fit into it. Yet, in spite of being able to discover part of whom he was and what made him special, Vincent van Gough still craved confirmation of his worthiness from the outside world.
How many of us have done the same thing in some form or other at some point? Something inside us says, “You are not enough; you are not special; you are not worthy of love, or praise, or friendship; you are worth nothing and have nothing worthwhile to contribute to the world.” Therefore, we think, “Since I am worth nothing on my own, I must have to change myself to fit the image of worthiness that the person or people I am with have so that I will be deemed worthy in their eyes.” I often wonder why we are never enough in our own minds, why we crave affirmation, why we can’t seem to be satisfied.
Van Gough’s Irises, like my garden, reminds me that each bloom is beautiful in its own right; each bloom has beauty enough for the world regardless of its level of perfection; each flower that refuses to bloom to its best ability deprives the world of happiness, comfort, and beauty; that even though a blossom is cut from its primary source of nourishment, it can bloom in the vase, in another environment. What a comforting thought to know that even when I feel cut off from nourishment, I am still able to bloom and bring beauty to those around me; that I can make life beautiful like no one else can because only I have my special combination of character traits and gifts. How will I choose to bloom today?
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