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There's a particular rose bush that sweeps over an archway in our garden.
Most of the year, it's just a mass of green.
But at some point, a profusion of tightly held buds show up almost overnight, seemingly out of nowhere.
And a few days later, we awaken to the sweetest most heady perfume wafting in through the open windows.
The roses have bloomed, and it is a delirium of scent and color and beauty.
People are like this too.
One minute you're tight in the bud.
The next you're exploded into beauty—fully expanded in yourself.
Today, take a moment.
And consider what or how or when you will be blooming next.
Most of the year, it's just a mass of green.
But at some point, a profusion of tightly held buds show up almost overnight, seemingly out of nowhere.
And a few days later, we awaken to the sweetest most heady perfume wafting in through the open windows.
The roses have bloomed, and it is a delirium of scent and color and beauty.
People are like this too.
One minute you're tight in the bud.
The next you're exploded into beauty—fully expanded in yourself.
Today, take a moment.
And consider what or how or when you will be blooming next.