Inspired by Forsythia by Barbara Crooker
Something we might hold onto. Something like hope. Something like the yellow forsythia blooms that brighten the dull yard with earthly sunlight. I have always had a hard time with hope. I suppose the fear that my hope will be in vain has held me back. The prospect of ending up fruitless after giving yourself over to a measure of belief somehow feels more barren than before you even started.
Hope is an ingredient that I only allow myself to use in small pinches. Some kind of magic and expensive treasure that changes everything. Like saffron. Like gold dust. I never keep saffron in my spice cabinets and if I did I am almost certain it would end up shoved all the way to the back and forgotten about for so long that it would grow stagnant. The fine granules all clumped together into one mass of rock-hard, once-powdered substance. Like lava hardens to obsidian once it has cooled.
Maybe I could do things differently. Change up the rules. Purchase some saffron and only cook recipes that call for a pinch or two. Do my best to get through it before it even begins to turn hard and sour.
There are things in this world so fragrant and magical it is almost something I cannot believe. I dare not believe. If I let myself believe in something so sweet and it isn't real or doesn’t come true then life will be all the more dull and hopeless once the moment has passed. But if I am the magician, I cannot manifest if I don’t believe in magic. If I don’t believe in my own power then of course I will have none.
It’s funny how that works. The seed needs to be there for the plant to grow, but before any petals or tiny sprouts show, there is only the soil and the darkness below. Just water and waiting and trying to know that the nature of life is that things want to be born. They are eager to become. To be seen and touched. To grow and change. The universe conspires to back you up the moment you turn towards your dreams and choose to walk forward.
The more steps you take the more the momentum builds. All you have to do is take one step at a time. I guess I’ve always seen it as a ladder you climb. Rung after rung and the higher you go the further there is to fall. But what if that’s not true at all?
What if it’s like the shaman woman said? That there is no ladder. That it’s the belief that you belong to your dreams already that lifts you up to meet them. To mingle with the other dreamers and feast on hope and saffron every day.