how quickly we die

I saw a pretty flower while at work the other day, and wanted to bring it with me on my travels. So without even hesitating, I picked it from its roadside home and stuck it in my hair. Then I crossed the street, found a water meter, read it, and as I was standing up saw that my flower had fallen to the ground. I picked it up, anxious to replace it in my hair and move on my way, when I noticed something different and stopped to look. It was already wilted! My flower had completely shrivelled up in a time span of about 5 minutes. I couldn’t believe it, and checked my hair to make sure it was the right flower. It was.

I felt very guilty.

“What did you think would happen?” I asked myself, somewhat harshly and somewhat surprised at my surprise. “Of course its going to die.”

“But so soon?” I desperately responded, “I didn’t know it would die so quickly.”

As I thought about the poor flower, cut off from its source of nourishment and moisture on a hot day, I realized that our spirits are a lot like these delicate flowers. Oftentimes, we seem to be doing fine, we feel vibrant and colorful and plucky, and think we can handle anything and flourish no matter the circumstances. But when cut off from the spiritual nourishment, even just for a day, or even less, we start to wilt, to slacken, things get harder, look bleaker. What surprises me is that I continue to be surprised at how quickly this happens. How quickly I can go from strong, confident, all is well Shena, to depressed, mopey, sad, hopeless Shena. How do I lose faith so quickly? How do I lose sight of the goal, of what really matters? Because I know the answers, I know what I need to do to get the water flowing again, to get the petals back to their energized state. But when I’m dehydrated, the effort to get there seems to much, and the reward doesn’t seem worth it. Of course its worth it! Of course its better not wilted. But in the throes of my desperation, how do I believe that?

I wish I could just keep myself hydrated, keep myself connected to the source, to never thirst so greatly that I feel I’ll never survive. But maybe I need to thirst. Maybe its those moments, sprawled on the pavement, parched, gasping, aching for water, that bring me to my senses, that convince me to jump into that river of water and immerse myself again with life-giving relief.

I meant to complete this. I don't want to now. I just want to say that I'm glad for a source of water that never goes away, no matter how silly I am or how long it takes me to seek it. I'm grateful I have something inside of me that's stronger than I think, that never lets me die completely. yeah.