The Splitting of the Spathe

Hello friends.

I want to share with you a poem I wrote, in the hopes that it will lift your Spirit and give you hope in a time of great suffering.

I wrote this poem after reflecting on what was shown to me through a daffodil. Since daffodils are some of the first flowers to appear after winter ends, they are a symbol of rebirth and new beginnings. In this poem, I tell about the splitting of the spathe, the brownish tissue-paper-like part wrapped around the flower bud, which protects it from insects and disease until the flower is ready to bloom.
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At a time when we are still suffering in various ways during the Covid pandemic, along with ongoing violent shootings, racial and economic injustice, natural disasters, and world-wide environmental and spiritual degradation, this time we are in is what I liken to the “splitting of the spathe.”

Like the spathe, we may feel like our lives are splitting apart. But what this flower teaches us is that the pain we feel is a harbinger of the Flower getting ready to burst open. We feel the pain of the spathe, and we think we are the spathe. But once we allow to tear what needs to be torn, and we allow to break down what needs breaking down, and we allow to erupt what needs to erupt, and we let go of what is not our True Self, then and only then can our highest and truest and best be brought forth into the world. We must come together to heal what is not whole in ourselves, our communities, our organizations, our governments, and our world.

That splitting of what is not our most authentic, innermost beauty, is what we are now experiencing. But please remember that after the splitting of the spathe comes the blooming of the Flower, our True Self which is one with the Spirit of Love. So have hope...and may we keep working to make this world better, starting with ourselves and our families, and extending out into the world.

May we call on Spirit...and friends and family and all of humanity and creation, through which Spirit moves. Spirit is the force behind the birthing, the flowering that will occur in good time. But the pain of the labor is worth the new child being birthed into the world. And the pain of the splitting of what is no longer needed is worth the beautiful new world we can and will create. May we let go of what needs to be let go and let bloom what needs to bloom within our own hearts. Then the pain will dissipate and be replaced with love, justice, and the joy of the new world we create.
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The Splitting of the Spathe

It happened one day as I was resting away
That a little flower in mine keeping
Was about to tell a story so deep
About its own (and my) unfolding.

I was minding my own, when a noise I did hear
But could not figure out whence it came.
Then I heard it again - it was faint, but yet near -
Like the sound of a soul-stirring tearing.

I turned toward the sound and was awestruck to see
A little flower had begun to burst forth.
The spathe which had protected the flower so dear
Was now making way for its growth.

I felt the deep pain of my own inner tear
As I bore witness to the split of the spathe.
How long it had protected the flower with its life
And with its splitting, its life it now gave.

To let itself tear, like the wrapping on a gift
To reveal the flower’s beauty within
‘Twas a keen recognition deep in me too
My own tearing was a major life shift.

My mask, like the spathe, had hidden so long
A beautiful, brilliant Flower inside
But with the tear, oh the tear, deep pain I did feel
And the fear…of not being able to hide.

For the mystery of the much greater Being within
Like the flower I saw blooming before me
Was attractive, it’s true, but mysterious and new
And I feared letting go of the old me.

But nature has a way of birthing to life
What is time to come out in the world.
So I decided that I would let go of the strife
And let my Beauty be unfurled.

Though the pain of the tearing was great, I did bear it
For the flower understood and her splitting did share it
And she helped me to see that the pain would not be
But for need of our Flowers unfolding.
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So now, when I witness another in pain
A quite distinct, though compassionate, view I do take
For I know just before comes the bloom of a Flower
Comes the pain of the splitting of the spathe.