After scientists broke open the coat of a lotus seed (Nelumbo nucifera) and coddled the embryo into growth, they kept the empty husk. When they radiocarbon-dated this discarded outer shell, they discovered that their seedling had been waiting for them within a peat bog in China for no less than two thousand years. This tiny seed had stubbornly kept up the hope of its own future while entire human civilizations rose and fell. And then one day this little plant’s yearning finally burst forth within a laboratory.
―Hope Jahren, Lab Girl
Once an idea is out and about, it can’t be called back, silenced or erased. You can’t contain it, any more than you could put the head of a dandelion back together after the wind has scattered its seeds.
To be of the Earth is to know
the restlessness of being a seed
the darkness of being planted
the struggle toward the light
the pain of growth into the light
the joy of bursting and bearing fruit
the love of being food for someone
the scattering of your seeds
the decay of the seasons
the mystery of death and
the miracle of birth.
Diana Vishneva performs as principal ballerina with the Mariinsky Ballet and the American Ballet Theatre, but you might remember her best from her performance at the Sochi Winter Olympics. She is a recipient of the Prix Benois de la Danse and, at her graduation from the Vaganova Choreographic Institute in 1995, she attained the highest marks in the history of the famed school.
Vishneva has played heroines in traditional pieces, including Swan Lake, Don Quixote, Romeo and Juliet, Sleeping Beauty, and Giselle, as well as modern works. This video below features her in a mesmerizing piece that reminds me of a seed blowing on the wind, perhaps from a milkweed plant or dandelion. This is the third part of For the Love of Women, F.L.O.W., choreographed by famed artist Moses Pendleton. Gorgeous!
Life always bursts the boundaries of formulas. Defeat may prove to have been the only path to resurrection, despite its ugliness. I take it for granted that to create a tree I condemn a seed to rot. If the first act of resistance comes too late it is doomed to defeat. But it is, nevertheless, the awakening of resistance. Life may grow from it as from a seed.
What dreams lie dormant hidden in the womb of your soul, quietly waiting, incubating, seeking opportunity to come forth?
Like the female cycle that comes every 28 days, over and over again, dreams come to rest in the soil of your mind. They compel you. They disturb you. They haunt you with visions of possibility.
They prompt you to walk restlessly through life knowing that you may someday stop, listen and decide to nourish them with faith and action.
Yield to the silent urging. Listen. Hear. Receive.
Let the dream speak. For it will burst forth from the womb of your spirit. It frees into existence something that lives, brooding in the corner your mind. Hold the seed. Grow the seed. Birth the seed. And life will begin anew.
“It always amazes me to look at the little, wrinkled brown seeds and think of the rainbows in ’em,” said Captain Jim. “When I ponder on them seeds I don’t find it nowise hard to believe that we’ve got souls that’ll live in other worlds. You couldn’t hardly believe there was life in them tiny things, some no bigger than grains of dust, let alone colour and scent, if you hadn’t seen the miracle, could you?”