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Simple Permission

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Giving Ourselves Permission

There are overgrown areas in my yard. Tall grasses, quack grass that weaves itself among the perennials its roots a web of succulence and tenacity, its tallness swaying in the breeze, its rustle a whispering whoosh that embraces my ears with hugs of comfort. To the untrained eye, it is a mess of weeds that need attention. To me it is the prairie alive and healthy emerging from its own perfect origin.

Sure enough there are perennials amidst the grasses. Someone else’s attentions still meanders among the grasses; poppies, day lilies and harebells; a splash of colour that seems to fit into the otherwise wild scape.

There are also monkshood, columbines, ferns and edibles behind the shade part of the garage, overgrown and woolly thick with foliage. It needs digging—one day—divided and transplanted. And when I have made a decision about the garage, a solid fir built structure built in the late 1920’s when two by fours, sixes and eights were the real McCoy and where roof asphalt was attached as siding; when I have decided how to preserve this little bit of history of this small town, I will get to the overladen beds outlined by flat river rocks, each flat side butted to the next that makes a border between bed and grass. Today mingled and blended. I will get to it; I will, but not today.

This year, out of the grasses and day lily leaves, I spotted a surprise brilliant green jewel woven into the fabric of new and old growth. A clover leaf wonder sprouting leaves mottled, patterned and distinct in its singularity. What a delight, what a joy.

In the six years I have experienced this garden there are wonders each season. Had I made a decision about the garage, had I dug in and dug-up rather than allowing the garden to reveal itself to me, I would have missed this little gem; this piece of paradise. The decision to allow the garden, the wild, woolly and formerly cultivated to emerge and reveal itself to me is a process much like healing from inside out.

It takes time, its takes patience; it takes fortitude to allow the process to reveal answers on how to move forward without tampering prematurely, and by giving ourselves permission to stay with it, no matter what—always takes time, even years perhaps.

Giving ourselves the go-ahead to take that time is likely one of the most consistent challenges of our lives. The question I ask myself frequently is, if not now; when? As John Lennon said in the song Beautiful Boy — life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.

Had I dug-up the garden bed I may never have seen the magic of this beauty. In this writing, I have witnessed again  the value of capturing a moment of my life to share and more importantly to write for my own health and well-being,  and in the event it gives others permission to write4health—their health and well-being—I am delighted! In-joy.

Writing Practice: Take time out from your busy-ness however it shows up for you. Pause; focus on one thing in your direct vision; a paper clip, an abandoned toy, a bird, a scattered garment, a leaf, spilled milk, dirty dishes, a discarded wrapper, a puddle reflection, and write from there revealing a personal story through its lens. Find your senses in what you see, include them, exclude them, engage them, identify or discard them. Write from inside out, and witness the landscape before you. write4health; your health, your well-being…

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Author: Angela Simmons

Angela Simmons champions individuals and groups to write4heath and use PLAY (Purpose, Lightness, Action, Yes) tools to unleash their inner genius. Her clinics and salons use writing as a path to unravel glitches, blocks, and stumbles, gain insights and keys, and develop a step by step plan for health and wellness. She uses poetry, prose, photography and memory keeping as means to access inner knowing. Her focus is mental health and pain management. She advocates a mind/body connection. To contact email her at writingmybrain@gmail.com or write4health.ca In-joy!

2 thoughts on “Simple Permission

  1. Hi Angie, Just finished reading about your yard and the treasures that lie hidden in the tall grass.  You can leave it be…After all, they don’t have what you do… a tree growing through your front deck. Max used to complain about the perfection that people pride themselves on  as they look at their perfectly  trimmed lawn… Like a military brush cut, and the cuttings go into the compost if not the garbage. Some people now have started to grow delicious and fresh veggies in what used to be a useless lawn.
    Julie