Blossoming in the Wilderness

My seeds have been planted long ago. As along a river bed, where spindly trees dip down and touch the water, and vast seas of bees and honey and wildlife sip and nest along the river’s edge, and a deep humming goes on behind in the forest that has been laid down long long ago – so too am I planted here, striking out from a field of  wild elderberries, untamed grasses, clover and dandelions…


In the last few years you could say I have planted many seeds. Many intentions. My conditions have not been perfect (at least not what I thought was perfect!).  I still have a family to tend to, practical things to do; I am “planted” where I am. I cannot escape and run off to explore (though I have had many a good trip!). The wilderness of my life – the renovations, the people, the responsibilities (and the lack of responsibilities!) – This wildness keeps flowing all around me. I may not know it yet, but this is the perfect ground from which to grow.


When I talk about Evolutionary Woman, or growth at all, I’m using my life as a tool, as a vessel. I’m using what springs up all around me, whether I planted it there or not.  And me, I am not perfect either. I am a little wild around the edges – more wild perennial than perfectly  manicured annual.  I could easily get lost in the bushes, I like to hang where the lush things are, where the leaves are dripping with dew, where the sun shudders through cracks in the thick ceiling of trees overhead.  I’m not a sunny beach kind of gal (though I kinda love to visit!), nor a regal rose planted in a perfect petunia garden.

     No, my seeds were planted long ago.  Anything I do comes from a sweet, perennial idea that never goes away. The idea of awakening, belonging, connection, and deep, deep understanding.  Spiritual longing. Recognition. Newness. I have been tearing down fences (as quickly as I erect them), stamping out facades and barriers, looking in the mirror and seeing both sides.

My projects seem to spring up from nowhere, and yet I remember planting them in the dim haze of night, from such a deep place that some never saw the light. It was my soul singing to me. It was memory.


I am deep in the forest bed, along the walk to the wilderness, to the sigh of relief that there’s more to do and it’s not in my head. There’s more to create and share – and like my meandering essays that “seem” to go nowhere, that seem unstructured and unruly, wild and untamed, I have learned to sound my name.  With no thought to rules or propriety – and yet still, filled with beauty.


Yes, my seeds have been planted long ago. And still, everything is aglow. There is an open door. I haven’t been there before.  It comes up again and again, lays down and rises again. The sun soothes but the air is moist and cool.  A deep breathe… A sigh. Renewal.

Ahhh….  that’s me. Dripping with dew.  

How about you?

One Response to Blossoming in the Wilderness

  1. Marion Morrish says:

    Hi Krista!

    “Oh wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful wonderful¡ and yet again wonderful, and after that, out of all whooping!” (Shakespeare)

    YOU are amazing! ~ Marion

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