I laughed the other night when talking to my Grandfather in Spirit, he said “You want to watch that brain of yours, it will get you in trouble”. I think of many times that my brain has got me in trouble. The human brain left to its own devices is remarkably inventive and I have to say not in the best way really. The amount of times that your brain will zero in on fear based thoughts rather than empowering thoughts is huge. Yet we at times are completely at a loss as how to stop our brain from doing that. As my Grandfather so succinctly puts it, it will get you in trouble if you are not careful.
The Guides always say that we tend to water seeds of thoughts inadvertently, or strangle them with good intentions, smother them with fears, we let weeds seep in and grow insidiously around our carefully planted hopes and dreams until they strangle any thoughts of our successes. It is really only up to us to pull those weeds out as quickly as they appear. Until we learn to do that we suffer and if that isn’t enough, the moment that you even THINK a fear, the Universe starts to respond and it will send those lovely “illuminator” people who will actually VOICE your fear back at you. Sometimes it is only you who will hold yourself to your dreams and it doesn’t matter how long it takes you, believe in you and you can keep weeding until your garden is wonderfully filled with flowers of positivity, versus smothering fear weeds.
The Guides gave me this parable after the discussion with my Grandfather, I hope it resonates as much as it did with me.
The land was dry and arid. It had been for a century. All of the trees and grasses had died with the change of the seasons and the planet shifting. No one really had any memories of the land as it used to be. They could close their eyes and envisage it green but really, it was shifting seas of sand which the wind blew into new piles like a bored child with little to play with.
There were sporadic villages throughout the desert, linked only by a need to have spaces in between that people didn’t die of thirst and hunger. These were the stopping posts, bringing hope to a weary traveller, they shone like light houses in an endless sea, a beacon to bring one home who was lost in the vastness. The people were hardy, tenacious as they clung literally to their existences in a harsh land. Visitors were few and far between yet they came and they moved through both the days and the nights, streaming connections across a desert landscape bringing the odd glimpse of an outside world that felt detached from their current reality.
On the horizon appeared a middle-aged man in white. He would step, stoop, stand and walk a few steps, stoop again and place something in the sand and move on. He could be seen from quite a distance away due to the lack of any other remarkable land mark. A woman noticed him first, and gossiped to another and soon it passed all the way around the village that someone was coming but doing something very odd as they came. Soon people were peering out across the flat to try to work out exactly what he was doing as his progress towards them was extremely slow. Step, stoop, bury, stand. A complex and slow routine.
Finally the traveller reached the outskirts of the village and standing, stretched his back, adjusted a voluminous back sack and walked into the village. People clustered to meet this new addition, his face extremely weathered by the sun but extremely cheerful as he returned waves and greetings. The villagers were all completely intrigued with the man and asked him many questions about where he had been, but were all trying to be very polite about what exactly he was doing when he was walking and stooping.
Finally a small boy stepped up and said “What were you doing when you were walking in the desert and towards our village”. The traveller reached down and ruffled the boy’s hair and smiled, he crouched in front of the small boy and said “My son, I was planting seeds if you really want to know” and he reached into his bag and pulled a handful of seeds to show the boy. The villagers all leaned in and looked. Sure enough there was black seeds in the traveller’s hand.
Someone in the back of the crowd began to snicker and it was contagious, soon there was bubbled laughter from the small crowd around him. One man stepped forward and said “How ridiculous. Why on earth would you bother? This is a desert, nothing grows without water and rain is such a rarity here. You are wasting your time and good seed”. Everyone waited to see how the traveller would respond. He just smiled at the villager and said “I have faith that what I plant will one day become reality”. The villagers being polite, pulled him forward for a good meal and drink, but each were thinking the traveller had been in the sun for too long and it had affected his brain, but they made him well welcome.
That night around the fire they asked the Traveller to tell them of his travels and he wove stories well into the deep darkness of the night of the places he had travelled, the seeds he had planted and what he had seen. When asked if he had ever returned to see if the seeds had ever grown, he shook his head and replied.
“You must realise, it is never about the seed. The seed knows what it needs to do for itself. It has design, and purpose, it just needs the right situation to grow. What it decides for itself after the process of being buried is completely up to it. Whether it survives the rain is really up to it, whether it survives the sun, well that is up to the seed as well. If you notice with other plants, they have a tenacious side to them. In the face of adversity they can establish themselves in the tiniest of cracks and be content to live their lives in places we think are not suitable” He swept a hand out to the desert, “like here, whether or not the land is suitable, do I not need to just give the seed a chance? For it is not for me to really decide the seeds fate, that is completely in the hand of the seed, I merely give it a chance”.
The man who spoke earlier snorted again “It’s a poor chance in a place like this”. The traveller turned to the man and said kindly “Did you settle here, or were you born here?” The man shook his head, “No I was not born here, I moved here to find adventure and I settled here willingly, but it is a harsh and unforgiving place and I have wondered many times whether I have made the right decision. But I have a family here now and I suppose it will do”. “In truth” replied the traveller “Are you truly so different from the seed?”.
Many fell quiet at that considering the travellers words and in the silence the Traveller stretched and yawned. “Thank you, my good friends, but I must bid you good night as I need to be on my travels tomorrow”. The villages all thinking, mumbled good nights to the Traveller and went to their homes.
Early the next day the Traveller rose with the dawn and packing up his things he ventured out into the warming day. He adjusted his desert clothes and placed the voluminous bag over his shoulder, bent for the walking stick offered by a kindly villager and made his way to the edge of the village. To his surprise there was quite a few villagers to see him off and he spoke kindly, thanking all of them.
As he turned to leave, the small boy ran up to him and held his hand out “May I please have some seed before you go?” The Traveller smiled. The boy’s mother horrified at her son’s rudeness grabbed the boy to pull him back. The Traveller smiled again at the mother and handing seeds to the small boy, commented “Madam, it is completely all right, for seeds are not just planted in soil” and with that he handed the boy a handful of seeds and waved good-bye, walked out of the village and stooped, and planted a seed.
Moral of the story:
We have many opportunities in our lives to look at the seeds we plant for ourselves. Some we nurture and fuss over and they still do not grow. Some we throw randomly into the wind and then are so surprised at a later date when they come to fruition. We let others take control over our plantings and doubt they will do anything. The point is sometimes its about just planting a seed and allowing it to be all it can be. Not to get so preoccupied on making it grow, forcing it to be a sunflower when it is a climbing rose. Just think how many times you plant seeds with your own expectations and then realise at a later date, it was growing but you expected it to grow in your way. We are all capable of sowing the seeds of opportunity for ourselves, don’t fuss about watering them, giving them sun, nor allowing others to point out the problems with planting them full stop. Try believing in them first and allowing them to grow of their own accord.