We've all heard the cheesy saying that when life gives you lemons, make lemonade. Well I don't grow lemons, but I do grow peas and in their own magical way they have taught me some pretty big life lessons. A few years ago life gave me peas and I chose to blossom from it.
The summer before last I looked to my garden for solace after facing a particularly stressful event. I knelt down next to the pea trellis, connected with the earth and checked my breathing. It was in that moment that I decided how I was going to face the hurdle in front of me. I chose not to be a victim of my situation and instead found balance and control in finding a solution. Something changed in me that day, a shift in my ability to access inner strength, to stand strong and solid for what I believe in. And once you know that strength is in there, that's a lesson you can't unlearn.
Through the days that followed as I worked through the learning that this life teaching was giving to me, I took to the garden for peaceful reflection. I watched my peas climb the trellis, expose their beautiful blossoms and eventually provide me with gorgeous green pods. Their growth that season was an external manifestation of my own personal development. However, just because I took this situation and treated it as an opportunity for me to see the world differently, didn't mean there wasn't some pain throughout my journey. Seems those times with a little tears tend to be the ones with the most impact when you get on the other side.
So I thought this one had passed, I took the lemons and made the damn lemonade so now life just moves forward right? I did the right thing, acted as an adult and did the growing thing instead of hiding in a corner. Can't I just tie this one in a bow and move ahead? Nope. Life doesn't work that way. The following summer just as my peas started their ascent up the trellis I found myself struck motionless one day. Standing there in the middle of the garden staring at the trellis and feeling all of the emotions from the prior year. No logic in my brain could cease the reaction and not a single urge to control things could stop those peas from triggering my memory.
The good thing was that it was simply that, a memory. That summer I learned about the power of one's mind and how we store stressful events. We all have the ability to compartmentalize them if we choose, to move them from emotional to simple fact. It just takes some work, uncomfortable work at times, but we are powerful enough to make the change in how we associate with our past. We can let it control us or we can use it to enhance who we are in the present.
This year, my peas make me beam from ear to ear. They are a symbol to me of the work I have done and the perseverance I had to get on the other side. They are a gorgeous three tone blossom of white, pink and purple. Three tones, three years. The white for the first year when I knelt beside the trellis looking for guidance, innocent and pure. The pink for the following year's trial bringing me universal love and inner peace. This year, combining the calm stability of blue and the fierce energy of red, purple has been known to represent the meanings of creativity, wisdom, devotion, peace, pride, mystery, independence and magic. This particular experience had a little bit of all of these things sprinkled in along the way. Growth is such a gift.