Marry the Heart - My Rose Ceremony (Cliff notes version)

"If you think of the rose,
you will become the rose.
If you think of the nightingale,
you will become the nightingale. – Rumi
(found on my friend Kay’s facebook page)

This sweet little miracle caught my eye Saturday afternoon.

I had silently feared the climbing rose we’ve so neglected had bloomed for the last time around Mother’s Day when three blossoms suddenly made an appeearance on it’s barren, bug eaten leaves and limbs. I thought of my siblings and me, my mother’s three offspring. This happened last year too. Three little roses arrived on Mother’s Day, no more, no less. Then the bugs took over. It’s unusual for us to ignore nature’s things but roses have not been our forte especially in light of the fact that we haven’t found anything organic for taking care of the rose-related bugs(or so I thought).

Three Falls ago when my mother who’s never been significantly sick had sudden surgery, the climbing rose blossomed. One tiny bud unfolded on the August day of her surgery. That’s when I first sensed it was a messenger. The bud immediately reminded me of my father, my father who had died the year prior. He had wanted roses for his funeral. We bought a beautiful pall filled with red ones. (Petals from the roses at his grave were included in the dried ones I left in various places while traveling in France last year.) I thought of my father that August day. That one rose was a sign my father was still with us. I took the rose to my mother the next morning without sharing what it had meant. I didn’t share my heart easily then especially with family.

This climbing rose, my burning bush, always offers signs at significant times. Why did I think it was dying? I should have known it would not let me down. I, one of the most technologically challenged people I know, had the hour prior submitted an entry to the “Host Your Own Show” contest on the new Oprah network. I learned of the contest earlier in the week and navigated a labyrinth of feelings from panic that Oprah would take something I said in the video from
me legally until the ‘end of the Universe’ as the fine print read to fantasies of interviewing guests before recording a video and actually pressing “Send.”(To read of the entire labyrinth which is pretty funny of course to me….fast forward down to the story that follows by the same title.)

Throughout the entire ordeal, I knew despite my fears what I needed to do. Whenever I get excited about something, I’ve this way of leaving my inner self. (Why do I worry of Oprah betraying me when I’m balready betraying myself?)

I sat down with a photo of Templeton, my Muse, who taught me about deep love as she died two years ago. I listened then.I finally listened Saturday.

I looked at a photo of Templeton and knew my torment wasn’t about being on tv. It was about being me, opening my heart, my heart that so easily closes when hurt.

I pressed “send’ then walked outside and immediately saw the little red bud, my soul’s sole bud on the climbing rose.

It was the most beautiful moment. I saw the rose. I saw myself, my heart covered in orbs of morning rain, and smiled. I immediately got my camera and happened to find an unopened bottle of organic, oil based spray and yes sprayed first, photographed later then thanked and thanked the rose, not because this is a sign that I’m going to win but because it’s a sign that it is time to open my heart like the rose once again.

I laughed because I may not watch the Bachelor or reality shows on tv, but I was being offered in an even better reality, a rose, my very own rose ceremony standing in my Nashville driveway. The heart of the Universe, my heart said, "Marry Me.”

I left a tiny feather at the base of the rose in gratitude for it affirming my spirit's taking flight.

Roses like the heart thrive despite negligence and minimal care. I’ve pondered this since hearing years ago when someone just returned from Slovakia told me of the flourishing roses in war torn villages. I thought of it again in Conques , France a town of such beauty where roses climb walls everywhere with so little room it appeared for their roots in the soil.

Just as miraculous is the fact that the Universal heart, neglected, hurt, betrayed, having suffered so over the centuries continues to open and reopen allowing love to bloom forth repeatedly.

Maybe this is why there’s such betrayal in the world. Betrayal provides us choice. Will we stay open or re-open after pain or will we close and shut down?

Can we keep our hurting hearts open while they’re breaking? I believe this is why we are all here.

May we like Rumi said: Become the rose. May we like my friend Kay added: Become the New Story.

-Dawn!The Good News Muse 28, June 2010

* Only two days later the bud was in full bloom. Four days later, a beautiful spider web had been woven using one of the petals as an anchor for the web. I thought of Spider Woman, Grandmother Spider, the Creatress called by many names and the beautiful web that is our lives in these times, these times of marrying the heart. Blessed be.