23 mai, 2020 | echo $cat['nom'.$langExt]; ?>
While there’s life, there’s hope.
Unstoppable Mother Nature is hard at work decorating the world in springtime beauty throughout our hemisphere. Tell me, have you noticed the first small buds on tree branches? And the gloriously bold daffodils pushing up from the softened earth, barely free of winter’s grasp? Have you looked up into the sky to watch the parade of V-shaped flocks as they slice though the sky? Listened to their staccato exclamations beating out their rhythm through the vast blue space above?
In spite of everything, the Universe’s Herculean power supports the celestial skies with one hand and nourishes even the smallest living creatures with the other.
My youthful days far in the past, dare I hope that the grim monster will not stop at my abode?
Dare I believe that I might be spared despite the great many years I have enjoyed in this world?
Might I regret all those days when I didn’t take a moment to gaze intently upon a tree? All this twittering alights in my ears with no answer. The swaying of branches stretching forth in the sunshine? The energetic buzzing of bees? The smell of flowers, the friendship of animals? All these moments that I missed because I thought I had a better place to be. So many days, so many years seeing the snow melt, the grass returning to life, my skin marked deeper with time, my vivacity diminish…
And yet. And yet…
"While there’s life, there’s hope,” said Theocritus (Greek poet born in 310 BC). It is precisely the blessed hope in which I want to immerse myself and be reborn better, more clear-eyed, more attentive and more appreciative of Serene Mother Nature who orchestrates the entire physical world of our planet.
Not surprisingly, these past 10 weeks of confinement have sufficed to render me wholly conscious of the monumental importance of nature.
Growing up along the river that flowed into the sea between the reddish cliffs of the Gaspésie, I never took notice of the fields from which Maman would collect wild strawberries to make jam. Then, needing to feed my own young ones in turn, I joined the marathon of life without even inquiring what the prize was for winning. I cooked, worked and toiled away until my Sun shone bright across the country. And hundreds of people have come after me.
My final reward quietly germinated within me, during these long, quiet weeks. It might have been in March during a walk in the outdoors, when a celestial seed, tucked inside a snowflake, landed on my head, whispered in my ear and entered the fertile ground of my loving heart.
Or then, it might have been April, while walking through a residential area, wishing to save the small buds from the jumble of branches, cut off and thrown out on the street. Each day, I would discreetly pick up a few branches and take them home to place in a vase of fresh water on my large table. I showered the beautiful bouquet of buds with kisses and words of love. And this morning, the bouquet looks like a tree, full of young leaves, all content to enjoy the warmth of my large kitchen.
Like the branches, I am flourishing again, more understanding, happier and fully convinced that kindness, affection and love are the best vitamins for growth.
To be alive is an immense privilege. Let’s not waste the opportunity given to us, and love more.
PS: A shower of kisses to you as well!