Yesterday's warm sun and 70 degree temperature kept drawing me outside. It was perfect that a few phone meetings were rescheduled, so I had more time to enjoy the day. I wanted to put my hands and feet into the warm earth, enjoying the grounding, feeling in tune with Mother Nature.
The front yard's row of Knock Out Rose Shrubs were wild and over 6 feet tall, time to cut them back before they started their spring growth. The dead wood and many new shoots from last year were tangled and gnarly...difficult to get close enough to cut them back.
I originally thought I'd take hedge trimmers and by force cut them back to size. Then realizing that I would have to pick up and bag all of those thorn-covered branches, I thought I'd cut the branches one by one, trimming them to size over the bag. Thinking logically, that this was simpler, kinder and less painful for me.
Ha! Thorns were in my fingers, scratching my arms, sticking in my legs and feet where the branches fell if not caught over the lawn bag, grabbing my clothes and hair! I felt attacked and walked back inside thinking I'd come back later, with more protection, and shoes on my feet.
After some tea, a conversation with a mentor, I headed back to the project. Thinking I'd move more slowly, more deliberately. The roses were wanting/needing/asking to be pruned, knowing they could be more glorious and bloom more heavily, if there were places to grow and less dead wood to grow around.
I felt that I could relate. I know I need to let go of dead wood, and it's not always easy, often painful. I'm in that spring cleaning mode of releasing old energies, old lifetimes of patterns for my Self and for my lineage. I teeter in between wanting to stay safe and comfortable in the pain and tight coccon I've formed around myself and stepping into my full power, full radiance, full beauty and wisdom. Into the Leader, Healer, Teacher I am meant to be.
After filling another bag and only completing one full bush and parts of another, I looked down and my hand was full of blood. The welts on my arm from scratches were showing only dots of blood, but I did have on a white top and wanted to wash away the blood before it ended up on it. Off to the house I trot, this time wondering why I didn't use the longer edged shears, and gloves. Protection is there if I ask for it, use it. I don't need to put myself into this kind of pain! I laughed at my willingness to be hurt, to have the lesson be so dramatic. Ahh, lesson learned. I've gotten the right tools and will continue until completion using them tomorrow.
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