A friend recently sent me this story. I was having a little trouble with my essay and was a bit overwhelmed with the task in front of me. I had had all my books, laptop, notes and work on the essay stolen and even though I had been granted an extension on the deadline it was still a big undertaking considering I had so much work to re-do. I was changing jobs at the time and I had insurance to deal with (and you remember the trouble I had there!) and as a result of all of this my motivation was not great. So when this turned up in my inbox it helped me in a way that my friend might not have imagined.
The Daffodil Principle
Several times my daughter had telephoned to say, "Mother, you must come
to see the daffodils before they are over." I wanted to go, but it was a two-hour drive from Laguna to Lake Arrowhead "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 reluctantly I drove there. When I finally walked into Carolyn's house I was welcomed by the joyful sounds of happy children. I delightedly hugged and greeted my grandchildren.
"Forget the daffodils, Carolyn! The road is invisible in these clouds and fog, and there is nothing in the world except you and these children that I want to see badly enough to drive another inch!"
My daughter smiled calmly and said, "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. "But first we're going to see the daffodils. It's just a few blocks," Carolyn said. "I'll drive. I'm used to this."
"Carolyn," I said sternly, "Please turn around." "It's all right, Mother, I promise. You will never forgive yourself if you miss this experience."
After about twenty minutes, we turned onto a small gravel road and I saw a small church. On the far side of the church, I saw a hand lettered sign with an arrow that read, " Daffodil Garden ." We got out of the car, each took a child's hand, and I followed Carolyn down the path Then, as we turned a corner, I looked up and gasped. Before me lay the most glorious sight. It looked as though someone had taken a great vat of gold and poured it over the mountain peak and its surrounding slopes. The flowers were planted in majestic, swirling patterns, great ribbons and swaths of deep orange, creamy white, lemon yellow, salmon pink, and saffron and butter yellow. Each different-colored variety was planted in large groups so that it swirled and flowed like its own river with its own unique hue. There were five acres of flowers.
"Who did this?" I asked Carolyn. "Just one woman," Carolyn answered. "She lives on the property. That's her home." Carolyn pointed to a well-kept A-frame house, small and modestly sitting in the midst of all that glory. We walked up to the house.
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 one brain." The third answer was, "Began in 1958."
For me, that moment was a life-changing experience. I thought of this woman whom I had never met, who, more than forty years before, had begun, one bulb at a time, to bring her vision of beauty and joy to an obscure mountaintop. Planting one bulb at a time, year after year, this unknown woman had forever changed the world in which she lived. One day at a time, she had created something of extraordinary magnificence, beauty, and inspiration. The principle her daffodil garden taught is one of the greatest principles of celebration. That is, learning to move toward our goals and desires one step at a time--often just one baby-step at time--and 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 ...
"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 or forty 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 daughter summed up the message of the day in her usual direct way. "Start tomorrow," she said.
She was right. It's so pointless to think of the lost hours of yesterdays. The way to make learning a lesson of celebration instead of a cause for regret is to only ask, "How can I put this to use today?" as there is no better time than right now to be happy.
The weather in the UK over the Easter weekend was glorious so I took full advantage of this and went out. One of my trips took me back to a place I knew as child but hadn't been back to for a looooong time. The walk was up a hill near Gloucester so we parked and then started our ascent. Almost immediately, we noticed that there was blossom almost everywhere we looked. It looked like the trees were covered in candyfloss or cotton wool. The first photo is typical of the sight that greated us at every turn and below is a close-up of the tiny flowers that cover the trees in their millions!
The day was hot and at times the ascent was steep though there were also tracks that traversed the side of the hill. On such a track we found a shady bench that entreated us to rest awhile. How could we refuse? The light was dappled through the trees and we watched the birds and butterflies go about their busy spring business before setting off and finding a trail that took us upwards once more.
When we got to the top of the hill the view was magnificent if a little hazy, and we could see far and wide for 360 degrees. The photo below, although not great, gives you a little taste of what we saw. It shows Gloucester Cathedral towards the centre of the picture, with the centre of the city and then the suburbs stretching outwards from it. Gloucester is not a huge city but it is one with a rich history. In the distance, you can just make out the Malvern Hills which look blue in the haze of the afternoon sun. A cool breeze was blowing on the hill summit which was most welcome. Once we had rested we started our descent, back down through the blossom trees, whose petals drifted on the breeze like confetti.
I will write more about Gloucester and it's history sometime, which stretches back to the Romans.
