Another child. Another meditation. Another poem and symbol.
The rose, according to fossil records, is 35 million years old. It has a long history and has had a prominent role in many ancient civilizations – India, Persia, Mesopotamia, China, Egypt, Greece, and Rome – for both decorative to healing purposes.
Wild rose bushes can’t just be cut down. They must be uprooted which is a difficult process. It’s as almost as if it fights back the more you try to take it down. It intertwines itself with other plants and due to the thorns, it’s difficult to take hold. It’s easy to see how they not only survive but thrive in all types of environments.
When I think of my one child, this word comes to mind – “thrive.” To thrive means to develop and to grow vigorously; to bloom, to prosper, to flourish. We often use this word to describe both plants and children.
I will need to call on the wisdom of the ages this year to help and guide me in this endeavour. This will help in settling down her roots in ancient stories and allow her to grow according to her divine purpose.
To be the captain of her soul.
100 scribbles…hurriedly writing the here and now.
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