Discussion in 'Psychic' started by >>>--------, May 12, 2004.
can you speak about this old crone.
One day this child was out walking on a garden path. He spotted a flower that stood taller than all the rest. The little boy ran to its side and picked this flower. The bud held firmly in his hands. The stem dangled to his knees. Closing his fingers ever so tightly around th pelats he cried, Its mine. I will meet its every need."
A man came down the path hearing the childs promise. The man stopped and said, "But son the flower needs the rain, the earth, the sun, darkness and the morning dew. These things you can not do."
The boy replied as he held the flower closer to his chest. "I will not give it up, or let it go. The flower it will have to learn. I own it now."
The man said, Others might need the flower too. The differance God created things that way. Trust your heart my child. This is all that you can do. Your higher self and path will bless you far beyond the need to hold what is not yours to keep. Let go little one for then you will see you have what you really are looking for. The beauty of the moment that calls to you is such an embrace."
"I Will NOT" What if others want this flower, or this flower likes them more than me. I know best, You do not understand. I will teach the flower to be like me. I will be its only friend. You will see. Its mine. I will do my very best. the boy spoke as if to make himself sure."
The man with tears in his eyes saw himself as a child when he had done the same. He then said, Son Your best is not enough for in giving up, releasing your need to a deeper path in these garden, will set you free. In the letting go you gain far more than you ever dreamed. Set the flower free. You need not fear. It will not go away."
The child spoke from thoughts that came to lips that trembled. "I am not so sure, a little longer I will hold it tight - then maybe, just maybe I will let it go. I will see."
The leaves turned brown. Joy seemed as fading as the colors on the flower petals. Crushed, withering and dying from trying to be what the boy asked of it. The stem broke. In a quiet death the flower made not a sound. It did not shout.
The little boy in tears was mad. "Its not my fault. The flower was weak. The garden was wrong. I will get another flower. I will have my way. He said.
The man bowed his head. He knew that only as the child understood would he ever seek to see beyond his heart. This was hard to do when fear grips the needs from within. To seek to possess is not love. To take on what is not yours to have, will destroy what you do not see.
As the story goes on the child grew. He hated gardens, flowers, and weaker things. His rage, and sadness blended into one. Lonelyness became the life he held on too. Not sure he ever would see the truth but held his emotions clear. He lived in stone walled cities. He forgot just how to dream. Love was ever far away from him, and still he could not see.
We choose our path, the lessons we draw unto ourselves. But until we open the heart for a truth inside it\tself, we will repeat old patterns, until we can no longer see. Its not about the flower, the man, or child, or even in some ways about the needs. This is a reflection of the work inside we came to do. To be true to ourselves asking not what I can hold on to...but what I can embrace beside the letting go. What makes me whole inside. Am I willing to face the things I see, to love from a place where moments become the wisdom from which a heart reaches so far inside, that it comes out in one embrace. or That the heart comes out open with a joy that resonates with trusting who I am. Asking ourselves why we seek to claim, and own when freedom ask we only seek to fly.
So a closed heart is one that strangles inside the chest from not being willing to smell the fragrances of the gardens we walk.. This too is life where innocents gets lost. Then again we can rebuild by opening to the whole. Love becomes the choice. How you love, and with what depth is how you see yourself, and care beyond your own. If spirit speaks...LISTEN. When the heart is true, the hopes and joys we come to know are sweet within an intimacey all their own. Never ment to to be held on to...just embraced with wonder at the paths we choose to walk. Its here we learn to grow.
That spoke to me more then anything can possibly right now.. and i thank you from teh depths of my heart
Thank you old crone, that is a beautiful story.
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