The Daffodil Principle

Mentors - Bennie Harris

I've been busy recently laying out a new project that has been working in my mind, keeping me awake at night, demanding my attention! I'm excited to note that the initial drafting of the material is complete and the final edits are now underway.

Still in the back of my mind are a few nagging questions, basically "HOW"!!!

Have you ever had a goal in mind, or an idea burning in your heart, demanding your attention? I'm sure that all of us have, any one that has ever accomplished anything of significance has. Funny thing is; even those that have NEVER done anything of significance, have also had these ideas burning in their hearts and minds at some point. I'm confident of it, because we live in a Universe governed by principle that plays no favorites.

So to what do we attribute the difference when we look at those who creatively express themselves and make joyous contributions to life and those who don't? Well first, I believe that we are ALL creatively expressing ourselves, some simply at greater depth than others. This has to hold true, because all thought is creative!

The major difference is willingness, not talent or anything else. It the willingness to respond affirmatively to the gentle nudge of Universal Intelligence. Surely, the all-knowing Creator, Intelligent enough to create all that is, and cause the Sun to Rise and the Stars to set, has to have some idea about Its creation? In the past I would have said that yes, I believe so, but now, I choose to simply say that; "I know it to be so!"

In Emerson's Essay; "Spiritual Laws" he notes;

Each man has his own vocation. The talent is the call. There is one direction in which all space is open to him. He has faculties silently inviting him thither to endless exertion.

This talent and this call depend on his organization, or the mode in which the general soul incarnates itself in him.

When he is true and faithful his ambition is exactly proportioned to his powers.

By doing his work he makes the need felt which he can supply. He creates the taste by which he is enjoyed. He provokes the wants to which he can minister. By doing his own work, he unfolds himself.

Whatever he knows and thinks, whatever in his apprehension is worth doing, that let him communicate, or men will never know and honor him aright.

Emerson was such an elegant genius and his work resonates more loudly now than it did when originally penned 170 years ago.

There is something in all of us waiting to be more fully expressed; the rest is simply a matter of our willingness! Our willingness to say; "YES" and trust that something in life greater than we are, is working through us, or; "NO", that we have no trust in anything outside of our five senses. Either way, the choice is ours!

With the passing of Elizabeth Taylor this week, there has been great celebration of the life she lived. She was one that undoubtedly made a lasting difference with her 79 year presence. She was one that obviously had a willingness to respond affirmatively to that which was seeking greater expression through her.

Let's contrast her life and work with that of the cast of "Jersey Shore." Regardless of what one might think of "Snookie" and her cast of interesting friends, they are being paid millions for their creative expression.

When we look at the glamorous, well lived, life of Liz Taylor and contrast that with the interesting lives of the "Jersey Shore" cast, surely we recognize that the Universe plays no favorites!!! We must confidently know that there is something in all of us that awaits our recognition!

Regarding my question of; "HOW", thankfully I recognize that my responsibility rests in determining the "WHAT" in my life and that the Universe is in the business of; "HOW".

I must consciously decide what it is that I want to experience on this journey called life, and then follow what I call the "Universal Nudge" as I feel it. In reality, none of us know "how" to do a thing until it's done. Only then can we turn around and tell anyone else how it's done. This is the process of Life Unfolding.

How's life unfolding for you? What type of demands or wants have you expressed?

I'm including a great story that was sent out from our LifeSuccess organization this week; what a great reminder of life at work.

 

Enjoy.........


The following is a true story that we send out at the beginning of every spring season. It has a lesson well worth reading. If you have read it before please read it again. This is one valuable lesson!

The Daffodil Principle

Several times my daughter had telephoned to say, "Mother, you must come and see the daffodils before they are over." I wanted to go, but it was a two-hour drive from Laguna to Lake Arrowhead. Going and coming took most of a day - and I honestly did not have a free day until the following week.

"I will come next Tuesday," I promised, a little reluctantly, on her third call. Next Tuesday dawned cold and rainy. Still, I had promised, and so I drove the length of Route 91, continued on I-215, and finally turned onto Route 18 and began to drive up the mountain highway. The tops of the mountains were sheathed in clouds, and I had gone only a few miles when the road was completely covered with a wet, gray blanket of fog. I slowed to a crawl, my heart pounding. The road becomes narrow and winding toward the top of the mountain.

As I executed the hazardous turns at a snail's pace, I was praying to reach the turnoff at Blue Jay that would signify I had arrived. When I finally walked into Carolyn's house and hugged and greeted my grandchildren I said, "Forget the daffodils, Carolyn! The road is invisible in the clouds and fog, and there is nothing in the world except you and these darling children that I want to see bad enough to drive another inch!"

My daughter smiled calmly, "We drive in this all the time, Mother."

"Well, you won't get me back on the road until it clears - and then I'm heading for home!" I assured her.

"I was hoping you'd take me over to the garage to pick up my car. The mechanic just called, and they've finished repairing the engine," she answered.

"How far will we have to drive?" I asked cautiously.

"Just a few blocks," Carolyn said cheerfully.

So we buckled up the children and went out to my car. "I'll drive," Carolyn offered. "I'm used to this." We got into the car, and she began driving.

In a few minutes I was aware that we were back on the Rim-of-the-World Road heading over the top of the mountain. "Where are we going?" I exclaimed, distressed to be back on the mountain road in the fog. "This isn't the way to the garage!"

"We're going to my garage the long way," Carolyn smiled, "by way of the daffodils."

"Carolyn, I said sternly, trying to sound as if I was still the mother and in charge of the situation, "please turn around. There is nothing in the world that I want to see enough to drive on this road in this weather."

"It's all right, Mother," She replied with a knowing grin. "I know what I'm doing. I promise; you will never forgive yourself if you miss this experience."

And so my sweet, darling daughter who had never given me a minute of difficulty in her whole life was suddenly in charge - and she was kidnapping me! I couldn't believe it. Like it or not, I was on the way to see some ridiculous daffodils - driving through the thick, gray silence of the mist-wrapped mountaintop at what I thought was risk to life and limb.

I muttered all the way. After about twenty minutes we turned onto a small gravel road that branched down into an oak-filled hollow on the side of the mountain. The fog had lifted a little, but the sky was lowering, gray and heavy with clouds.

We parked in a small parking lot adjoining a little stone church. From our vantage point at the top of the mountain we could see beyond us, in the mist, the crests of the San Bernardino range like the dark, humped backs of a herd of elephants. Far below us the fog-shrouded valleys, hills, and flatlands stretched away to the desert.

On the far side of the church I saw a pine-needle-covered path, with towering evergreens and Manzanita bushes and an inconspicuous, lettered sign "Daffodil Garden."

We each took a child's hand, and I followed Carolyn down the path as it wound through the trees. The mountain sloped away from the side of the path in irregular dips, folds, and valleys, like a deeply creased skirt.

Live oaks, mountain laurel, shrubs, and bushes clustered in the folds, and in the gray, drizzling air, the green foliage looked dark and monochromatic. I shivered. Then we turned a corner of the path, and I looked up and gasped. Before me lay the most glorious sight; unexpectedly and completely splendid! It looked as though someone had taken a great vat of gold and poured it down over the mountain peak and slopes where it had run into every crevice and over every rise. Even in the mist-filled air, the mountainside was radiant, clothed in massive drifts and waterfalls of daffodils. The flowers were planted in majestic, swirling patterns, great ribbons and swaths of deep orange, white, lemon yellow, salmon pink, saffron, and butter yellow.

Each different-colored variety (I learned later that there were more than thirty-five varieties of daffodils in the vast display) was planted as a group so that it swirled and flowed like its own river with its own unique hue.

In the center of this incredible and dazzling display of gold, a great cascade of purple grape hyacinth flowed down like a waterfall of blossoms framed in its own rock-lined basin, weaving through the brilliant daffodils. A charming path wound throughout the garden. There were several resting stations, paved with stone and furnished with Victorian wooden benches and great tubs of coral and carmine tulips. As though this were not magnificent enough, Mother Nature had to add her own grace note - above the daffodils, a bevy of western bluebirds flitted and darted, flashing their brilliance. These charming little birds are the color of sapphires with breasts of magenta red. As they dance in the air, their colors are truly like jewels above the blowing, glowing daffodils. The effect was spectacular.

It did not matter that the sun was not shining. The brilliance of the daffodils was like the glow of the brightest sunlit day. Words, wonderful as they are, simply cannot describe the incredible beauty of that flower-bedecked mountain top.

Five acres of flowers! (This too I discovered later when some of my questions were answered.) "But who has done this?" I asked Carolyn. I was overflowing with gratitude that she brought me - even against my will. This was a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

"Who?" I asked again, almost speechless with wonder, "And how, and why, and when?"

"It's just one woman," Carolyn answered. "She lives on the property. That's her home." Carolyn pointed to a well-kept A-frame house that looked small and modest in the midst of all that glory.

We walked up to the house, my mind buzzing with questions. On the patio we saw a poster. "Answers to the Questions I Know You Are Asking" was the headline. The first answer was a simple one. "50,000 bulbs," it read. The second answer was, "One at a time, by one woman, two hands, two feet, and very little brain." The third answer was, "Began in 1958."

There it was. "The Daffodil Principle."

For me that moment was a life-changing experience. I thought of this woman whom I had never met, who, more than thirty-five years before, had begun - one bulb at a time - to bring her vision of beauty and joy to an obscure mountain top. One bulb at a time!

There was no other way to do it. One bulb at a time! No shortcuts - simply loving the slow process of planting. Loving the work as it unfolded.

Loving an achievement that grew so slowly and that bloomed for only three weeks of each year. Still, just planting one bulb at a time, year after year, had changed the world.

This unknown woman had forever changed the world in which she lived. She had created something of ineffable magnificence, beauty, and inspiration.

The principle her daffodil garden taught is one of the greatest principles of celebration: learning to move toward our goals and desires one step at a time - often just one baby-step at a time - learning to love the doing, learning to use the accumulation of time.

When we multiply tiny pieces of time with small increments of daily effort, we too will find we can accomplish magnificent things. We can change the world.

"Carolyn," I said that morning on the top of the mountain as we left the haven of daffodils, our minds and hearts still bathed and bemused by the splendors we had seen, "it's as though that remarkable woman has needle-pointed the earth! Decorated it! Just think of it, she planted every single bulb for more than thirty years. One bulb at a time! And that's the only way this garden could be created. Every individual bulb had to be planted. There was no way of short-circuiting that process. Five acres of blooms! That magnificent cascade of hyacinth! All, just one bulb at a time!"

The thought of it filled my mind. I was suddenly overwhelmed with the implications of what I had seen. "It makes me sad in a way," I admitted to Carolyn. "What might I have accomplished if I had thought of a wonderful goal thirty-five years ago and had worked away at it 'one bulb at a time' through all those years. Just think what I might have been able to achieve!"

My wise daughter put the car into gear and summed up the message of the day in her direct way. "Start tomorrow," she said with the same knowing smile she had worn for most of the morning. Oh, profound wisdom!

It is pointless to think of the lost hours of yesterdays. The way to make learning a lesson, a celebration instead of a cause for regret, is to only ask, "How can I put this to use tomorrow?"

Jaroldeen Asplund Edwards

 

http://www.insightoftheday.com/default.asp?affid=935781

 

 

 

 

 



Banner

Copyright Information

Copyright © 2010 - 2013 Mentors of New Thought. All Rights Reserved. All images and editorial content are copyrighted to their respective owners.