One solitary yellow flower amid the sparse winter landscape. There is a crazy, exuberance to being so totally against the norm. Noticing the vibrant petals my mind questioned my daily routines. How often each day do I move, perform an act, and barely notice. The trap of sameness, unquestioned decisions, can lead to a meaningless life.
Out of pure ease I might eat the same food several days in a row. Searching for comfort I gravitate toward familiar people. The walk where I encountered the daffodil is a routine path, one where I look forward to the subtle, and at times drastic, developments of a neighborhood. I am witness to rundown houses torn apart and rebuilt with precision. I watch children grow and expand their interests. I have the option of simply watching or allowing the flow of life to influence me. I can arrive home after a walk and be the same as when I left that day, the week before, or the year before. Or, I can embrace each subtle shift as I question my daily routines, to reveal the reason why I have decided to move, act or notice what in me wants to bloom. If I resist the opportunity to become the flower in the austere winter landscape I do an injustice to the sacredness of my life.