The Meaning of Life

Seeing you in all your glory reminds me that everything in the whole wide world is absolutely perfect. Nothing out of place, no detail too small.

I think about all that it took for you to get to this place, in full bloom, basking in the light, breathtaking with your quiet presence. You were born underground, a seedling in the cold, dark dirt. You had no choice but to accept your roots in order to grow up and out.¬†And that you did. Once you were ready, once you knew deep down it was your turn to come alive, you pushed your way through the darkness, up into the light of day. And wasn’t that amazing!? Oh. My. God. You came up for air after a lifetime in the dirt, gasping and sputtering, then slowly relaxing into being, into knowing all you needed to sustain you was right there.

You were just a bud then, wobbling in the wind; the new kid in an age-old garden. You listened to the wise ones; the perennials who’d been-there-done-that but knew they still hadn’t seen it all. You stood your ground on stormy nights and chilly mornings. You encouraged the buds coming up behind you, telling them to hang on, to be brave, to be beautiful together.

And then, one day, you found the courage to open up more than you ever had before. To bless and then ignore the weeds trying to pull you down. You realized standing in your own light doesn’t require you to overshadow anybody else. You chose to reveal all of yourself. And look at you now: every morsel of your being in bloom, doing what you came here to do, feeling what you came here to feel, growing with grace, and radiating joy. This is…you are…the meaning of life.