A yellow wildflower does not say to a blue flower growing beside it, “You don’t belong here. Go grow somewhere else.”

It grows alongside of whatever colour is next to it to create a beautiful rainbow coloured field of wonder.

It is we humans who deem some flowers weeds, some worthy of growing in our gardens, some not.

Yesterday, I planted. I am a pot grower — no — not marijuana but plants in pots. It is important to me that our walkway and deck be colourful, a welcome respite, an oasis. A place of calm. A warm greeting to all.

Yet, no matter how many pots I plant, my heart does not feel calm this morning. I am troubled. Saddened. Fearful.

I read the news. Watched the video of the events leading up to the man in the White House’s walk to St. John’s church and the aftermath and I cried.

I have not watched the video of George Floyd’s final 10 minutes of life. I can’t.

I don’t want to watch a man die. I want to watch him live. I want to watch all of us live, together, in harmony. Without fear.

And in my desire for more peace, more harmony, more togetherness, I find myself wondering what am I doing to affect it? What am I contributing?

I wasn’t going to come to the page this morning. I wasn’t going to write. It seemed so trivial, so inconsequential in the big picture.

Which is when I realized that this is my contribution to the harmony, the wholeness, the gift of life.

And so, I am here. Confused. Fearful. Sorrowful. Loving. Caring. Concerned. And wild at heart.

And in my wildness, I bring all my rainbow colours to the table and feast on life in all its contradictions, complexities, chaos and glory.

A man died with the knee of another man on his neck. It was wrong. It was deplorable. It was heart-breaking.

But this, this time of unrest, of protests and demonstrations… this time is powerful and potent. This is a time when every colour under the sun is standing united against those who would keep us separated by the colour of our skin and the pews upon which we kneel and the politics of their power.

This time is potent and I will not fall beneath the distress of believing their power is greater.

I will, as so many are doing in the world today, rise up and speak up from my place under the sun, the same sun that shines down on each of us no matter where in the world we are.

Under my sun, I will paint wildflowers growing freely, a riotous garden celebrating every colour under the sun.

Because in my garden, there is only room for loving kindness to grow and beauty to behold and life to nurture and cherish in all its chaos becoming harmony, in all its complexity evolving and revolving with life.

Namaste