Sunflowers

Belonging and Discovering Our "Us"

Photo by Angie on Unsplash

Life is tough when lived alone. We are small alone. Like the Trinity who envisioned us before conception, there is an “us” that breathes deep in our chests. My best understanding is that we are imprinted by the Cosmic “Us”—the Trinity. And like salmon, who always swim upstream to their primal homes, we are on that same search for our own home of belonging. We too, are in search of our “us.” We are in search of our own field, river or place of belonging—our own people that we belong to and with on this planet called Earth. Our hearts are restless until this “us” is found—this sense of belonging is discovered—this deep knowing that, ultimately we are not alone in this universe.

This cosmic search to find “us” has set some of us on the journey to find the “us” in such places as nature, the workplace, humanitarianism, and church. When I read N.J. Berrill’s words written in her You and the Universe, then I found the words that were stirring in me:

“Just what are we doing here, spinning on a tilted planet swinging round a star? … Where do we stand, with our few pounds of flesh and bones and our fleeting lives?… Only a short while ago we were all God’s children, holding most of His attention, and the world was exclusively ours for better or for worse. The sun shone to give us warmth and light, the moon to bewitch us, the stars were there to be born under, and the volcanic depths to serve as hell. Now paradise is lost and we find ourselves in limbo, inhabiting one of the minor planets of a middle-class star drifting in the outer arm of a spiral galaxy no different from a hundred million more that are visible through our telescopes. Space and time and stellar systems are overwhelming and to face the twinkling sky of night with any sense of what you see requires either courage or a great amount of faith ”

I think it takes both courage and a great deal of faith to navigate our way through this limbo like world, no matter how small or large you think it may be. But, courage and faith are best lived out together, not alone. Together, we find meaning, purpose, resolve, solidarity and community. Life is richer when it is shared.

Recently, Gwen and I took a drive through a winding, lonely road following the curves of a valley bordered by river and mountains. In this valley, farmers planted corn and crops but also planted fields and fields of sunflowers—beautiful sunflowers. It was the sunflowers that reminded me of a primal truth—a truth we need to remember today.

Photo by meriç tuna on Unsplash

All the sunflowers stood like a mass choir—all staring at the afternoon sun for direction. Their heads were bowed. Their faces of yellow blooms and seeded possibility, all looking for the rays of light that they would soak in, suckling the sunshine for nourishment as a baby turns to her mother’s breast. These magnificent acres of sunflowers where but a boquet for the altar of the Creator. They drank together. They sang praises together. They stood together. The lived together. They bowed and they bowed together.

The Old Book says, “Two is better than one.” So surely, a thousand sunflowers is better than just one. Don’t get me wrong. When you look closely at one giant sunflower, you clearly see so much design and symmetry. But, when they are together—uncut, erect in a field of gold, it almost takes your breath away.

There is a beauty when you walk into a sunflower field and see their heads all turned to the sun in unison. It’s like a great Cosmic choreographer directed this dance to turn to the Sun Star and take a bow in praise and adoration. The sunflowers became a prophet and teacher, a pastor and nursemaid to remind me of a great and important lesson.

It is this togetherness—this community—this cohort of beauty that I am reminded of my own “us”—my own fellow human travelers of men and women who stand with me in my own field of life.

We are better together.

We do not have to do this alone.

Today, give thanks for those who stand with you in heart and soul; in field and concrete; in cubicle or mountain trail; in a past season or a present situation.

We don’t have to do this alone. Life is richer when we share it.

---

Maybe, just maybe, in reading this—a fellow sunflower friend has come to your mind or heart. Consider passing this along to them to invite them to stand for a moment, across time zones and different soils to share in the beauty of being “us.”

Also, do consider my invitation to join the new 3C Group which starts September 30, just a few days away. We’re doing this over lunch time on the East Coast hoping that this time might best fit rather than taking an evening. Here are the details. Space is limited and it’s filling up, so don’t delay your registration. You’ll need to order a book of poetry to be in the 3C Group.

So, I wrote a poem. And in the poem, I’m showing my Subscribers, Gwen’s latest watercolor below. It’s called “Sunflowers.”

COVID was Gwen’s invitation to dive into her forced solitude and tap into art—a craft she had never explored until the COVID years. Self-taught in the beginning by YOU TUBE, she has expanded her ability by classes and workshops with other aspiring watercolor artists. She’s a better artist because of doing her art with a few others. I love her work.

The lesson in the sunflowers is such a beautiful invitation. We don’t have to do “this alone.” We are better together.

It is a primal and sacred truth—a truth worth remembering when we might feel alone on this tiny planet in the universe.

---

Gwen’s newest water color: “Sunflowers”

Gwen captures so well, the “us” that I have written in this Substack. And her painting sits now on my desk and has inspired me to write my poem, “Sunflowers.”

In this season, you’re reading my own form of attempting to paint in words what I see, how I feel and to share it with you—my Substack “us.”

Here’s my poem to those who support my work—who cheer me on and say, “Keep on telling us some things.”