Fern

Crumbled, wet earth slowly erupts with green magma. A tiny frond emerges from the dark earth. It blindly searches for light in a forest of low lying fog. It rises, up, up, up, but cannot find the slightest inclination there is anything waiting for it, so it begins to unfurl.

I am afraid of the unknown. Of reaching out and finding emptiness. Of not knowing my purpose. Of failing. I am afraid of saying yes. I am afraid of growth.

The frond loosens to find that it is a fiddlehead. Its wheel of green, furry spokes delicately taste the mist as they unfurl. Dew drops mirror the murky world of the forest floor and smatterings of green in the distance.

Even if I lose everything I will still have the warm, thrilled beauty in my heart. I still have my imagination.  I can still see the world glimmering, though sometimes only in reflection. I am who I am, I can’t be anything else, so I’ll search, and make, and be whatever comes from my intuition.

The fiddlehead’s arms are on a momentum it cannot stop now, it reaches out and finds delight in the warmth above the mist line. It almost sings as each tendril bristles out into the open, dancing unseen, swirling and curling and opening without care.

bracken

Hundreds of bracken grow up out of the mist spreading their feathery arms and connecting to their brothers and sisters. A soft layer of mossy green spans a world that was bare only days ago. A haven for bunnies and hidden nests. A lacy backdrop to my path.

I must cultivate what makes my heart feel warm. I must let it grow. Though I may be blind as I unfurl, I will eventually find those who are like me, ready to be a haven. I have lost deeply, I have reached out and been burned, I have had things go completely wrong, suffered pain, and worked for things that fell flat.

But I’ll let you in on a secret the accuser doesn’t want anyone to know: we all have. And if we want a world of frothy green we must remain like the ferns along our path: frilled and soft and open to the world

IMG_1496Bridget Beth Collins is the artist behind Flora Forager, the mother of three wild boys, and a believer in everyday magic.

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