In writing #35 of 36 posts for this series, the logical approach would have been to compare the fallen orchid flower to resignation, to endings. However, in all honesty, I was humming along with plans of tying the election victory of our first woman president with the image, which looks like a Degas ballerina bowing before its appreciative audience. I thought I had it nailed. But alas, Tuesday night’s results have taken me down to my knees. Hatred’s mounting the nation’s helm. And I am challenged to meet the beauty in Marissa’s image.
I’ve experienced low points in American history, but the scope of this feels worse than others. Yet if politics are part of natural cycles, similar to the way dormancy produces more blooms, and personal depths of darkness create growth in the spirit, this crises is an opportunity.
While the dust is still unsettled and the path to decency unclear, my orchids are all quite busy producing bloomstalks. In utter chaos, once again, I turn to them.