Each new moon I ask my guides for a story to reflect the energy of the month ahead:
In a bare patch of soil, there’s the first glimpse of a green stem with its white bud. A few people are gathered round on the stark hilltop to watch it unfurl. They are in awe of its ability to navigate the process, trusting that it will be strong enough to push up from the earth, to withstand the wind, that it will be spared from unsuspecting feet or nibbling rodents.
The beautiful white flower they had imagined, but even before it has fully revealed itself the pure beauty of it deeply moves the witnesses. Is the beauty itself part of the promise of the flower? Who or what planted the bulb they don’t know, but there were signs and they had hopes and now at the tail end of winter they have put those hopes on its emergence: Life in the ground still. Nourishment yielding a bloom still. The ability of a flower to flower still.
When it has fully opened its whiteness, that will be another moment of reckoning. What will be their response and responsibility then for what comes next? But for now it has given them something in the bleak landscape to gather round. (Do they remember what to do? How to greet a flower?) For now they share hope and relief that their trust has been answered. Will it be enough for them to live off? One single white flower.