So, I usually keep my journals to myself, but now that I have a blog, I feel like it’s the perfect place to keep the pearls Life tosses my way and share them with others like me. Who find wonder in the little things at all costs.
So here we go, Daisies.
This morning was like most.
I got up at the crack of dawn or a little before, started coffee, caught up on current events with my significant other (we usually watch something informative over coffee to connect and start on the same note before going about our business).
But somewhere in there, I breathed a little prayer asking for inspiration on the days ventures, also not out of the ordinary, but the result was like that subtle breeze you don’t know to appreciate until you’re scorching in the middle of a four-mile run and it tickles tremendous relief over your face like a plethora of daisy peddles 🙂
So we enjoyed our coffee, finished our morning routine together. While my partner was tinkering with some final odds and ends in the garage before taking off for the day, I found myself drawn to the little family of daisies in front of the house, right under the nose of the kitchen table I do my writing from.
At first, I was looking at them, contemplating what good and beautiful company they make through the open window, all the beautiful butterflies and other little bees and critters drawn to them that I get to enjoy by proxy. My only job?
To nurture them.
I get flowers every day from my surroundings, thanks to their existence. Anyway, I had a moment of genuine, unadulterated gratitude. Before I knew it, my feet were moving toward it, and the voice of wisdom called out of the gathering blue.
“If you get rid of the dying blooms the rest of the plant will thrive and blossom for longer.”
wow….
A single strange phrase followed, and I love my Papa because he talks to each of his children differently.
Prune, your, s***!
Now, I don’t often swear or overindulge in the use of most words if I can help it. How we speak is meant to hold power and substance. How the heck can I hope to offer either if I’m a leaky container of mediocre logic and thoughtless reasonings that might work in generalities but have no place in individual walks…? In my mind, the playing field has its way with such lukewarm players and tends to wipe itself with them.
Aaaaaanyway, all of these things started to form in my mind between the driveway to the tuft of beautiful white daisies I’d set my sights on.
I felt like a bitty dog whose best bud just pulled up after a day apart; my excitement over the building analogy, the curiousness of the expletive used, and its potential meanings excited me so much!
I almost peed my pants over the irony! My internal narrator happy danced over the organic nature of the insight. There is only one source for such imaginings.
So I go about my business, popping the dying daisy heads from their long-stemmed pedestals, and I’m wondering Papa, why would you say prune your shit? (I love how he tests our logic and boundaries with his limitless expression. There’s always a reason for every word heard in the spirit.)
I was about five minutes into the act of deciding which blooms were straining their roots and which were still capable of providing nutrients to the plants they extended from when my partner approached and asked me what I was doing.
I answered back without thinking until the final words fell from my mouth, and I realized they’d been the delivery system to the answer to my question.
“If you get rid of the dead stuff, the plant can thrive and live longer…”
Double whoa. Hearing it aloud and from my mouth made the right meaning stick to my inner walls more potently.
My partner and I said our goodbyes, and I went straight into watering the lawn in our backyard; we have some spots that will. Not. Grow. Period. Or haven’t until now and after constant care for the last few weeks. I was still chewing while watering the dry places when it struck me again. Prune your shit, and then soak and tend to your dry areas.
So after hearing it so potently in my mind twice, I decided to use the time to look up the actual definition of that word
shit/SHit/
VULGAR SLANG noun
- 1.feces.
- 2.a contemptible or worthless person.
verb
- 1.expel feces from the body.
- 2.tease or try to deceive (someone).”I sh*t you not”
exclamation
- an exclamation of disgust, anger, or annoyance.
All of those things fit by worldly and spiritual definitions. When we consume anything ANYTHING, we make waste because it’s natural. There isn’t anything gross about it; it’s profound and a miracle in every sense of the matter. BUT dependent on what we put in, the smell, potency, and appearance change. Usually, the best and worst things for us tend to highlight the less appealing qualities.
Now let’s kick that symbolism up a notch. Think of negative anything as junk food. When we take in negativity (in its many forms), we tend to need more of it, filling us less. The energy is there and gone in a flash, demanding more almost immediately. This process can turn into something that causes us to stray from our purpose as unique and beautiful creatures bound to the destiny we first set out to accomplish.
The practice of consuming what doesn’t benefit us long term starts to mold us until we truly are what we’ve eaten over time.
When we get blocked up physically in our digestive system, we can die, so what makes us think our spiritual, mental, and emotional systems are different?
… if we hold on to feces by choice or by proxy to health issues, it’s kind of like a plant or a tree, or flowers with dead limbs, withered blooms, deadstock… it keeps us from moving forward, causes discomfort and ultimately leads to our demise because we are so busy trying to bring Life to things that are no longer full of it naturally.
This got me thinking of labels, defense mechanisms, fear tactics, disgust, anger, and annoyance. These are all byproducts of living that might be useful or purposeful as red flags or indicators—but allowing them to take up residence? In my experience, they become life-sucking, vampire mental feces that will remain and block until removed and relieved of its ‘duty station.
All of a sudden, the phrase became very real to me. As I continued watering, the question then became. ‘Okay… great… how?’
Sometimes I think the creator of the Universe anticipates and dictates precisely according to what will be absorbed by those who are truly thirsty for understanding. As I was sitting there, finger on the hose’s nozzle, blasting life-giving water over a struggling patch of grass to help it grow and thrive.
That’s how. It’s all I can think now that I’m typing.
Moral of the story: A. Ask, and you shall receive. B. Prune your Sh*t, so the resources won’t be wasted what is dead or no longer fruitful when the waterfalls.