Plant a seed

I recently listened to a writing seminar on MP3 about the spiritual life of a writer. The speaker had the attendees do an imagery exercise she had done a few years ago. It sounds like some New Age/meditative hocus pocus but she said it had been a powerful experience for her and led to an examined encounter with God.

I played along.

We were to imagine ourselves planting a seed.

That’s it. There were no further suggestions.

I was driving so I didn’t close my eyes, but I did look at the movie screen on the inside of my forehead to see me standing near a tree with God.

He kind of looked liked Gandalf, or Dumbledore.

He handed me a seed and said to plant it.

I refused.

I stood there next to my Father, the Creator of the World, and I shook my head, and clutched my seed in my hot fist and all but stomped my foot in my refusal.

Doesn’t take a rocket scientist or even a psychologist to figure that one out.

The question is why won’t I plant it? What good is the seed doing in my hand? None. Why won’t I let it do what it was created to do, sprout and grow and generate shade and new life?

Because I’m scared.

That’s a pathetic reason.

I’ve written a reminder and posted it on my monitor: Live Fearlessly. Love whole-heartedly.


Today I prayed for: Pastor George and his family, Mom, Lois, and Dave H.

Last movie: … I have no idea

Currently reading: On Beauty by Zadie Smith. Lovely and lyrical and funny.

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