Both the pads and the fruit of the prickly pear cactus are edible, but you have to know how to get past the thorns first, for the plant has armed itself well against those who would get too close.
How do you arm yourself against those who would come too close to your vulnerability?
If a tree falls in the forest it does indeed make a sound, because there is always someone there to hear it: the other trees, the birds, the very ground on which the tree falls. If the only witnesses to a beautiful sunset are trees, the beauty is no less – but the person who fails to stop and appreciate it will lessened by what they miss.
How do you make time and space to witness beauty?
If you’re a duck, you might feel that the elegant black swan is looking down at you from his regal height. Then again, if you’re the black swan, you might imagine that the duck is quacking at you behind your back about odd red nose.
What do you do when you imagine that others are judging you?
When the world outside threatens, the snail always has the option of retreating into its shell, tucking itself away from danger. But it needs to stretch out its neck if it’s going to travel or eat or mate or have any kind of a life.
What draws you out of your place of protection into deeper engagement with the world?
There is always rhythm present if you care to notice – in the tapping of keys on the keyboard, in the slap of shoes on the sidewalk, in the rustle of leaves or the hum of insects or the whir of an oscillating fan.
If rhythm is always present in life, how will you find ways to dance along?
