Angelic Sightings

Ten days ago I sprinkled twenty-some tiny seeds as randomly as I could into a four-inch square pot of soil. The seeds themselves were so small, I couldn’t even see where they landed, so I kept my hand moving like a priest giving a blessing as I scattered the minuscule dry bits. I resisted the urge to cover the seeds with soil as these seeds (Lobularia/sweet alyssum) are among the ones that need light to germinate.

These particular seeds were the remnants of the package that grew with great success into last year’s garden. After a slow start, the seedlings grew into a lovely and fragrant covering for the feet of the morning glories and also did well in small pots on the porch. Each seed directed itself into a small sweet-smelling carpet of tiny white flowers that bloomed through the summer. But I wasn’t sure if the over-wintered seeds would have survived into this year in their condition of dry stasis.

I sometimes forget that seeds, though appearing dry and inert, are as alive as the plants that sometimes grow from them. Their space capsule of hard fiber protects the embryo until conditions are once again conducive to growth. When enough moisture, warmth and light return, the container of the seed shell dissolves and the spark of life is thrown out into this uncertain world.

I had checked the pot once or twice over the past week, but nothing was stirring. It wasn’t until yesterday that the miracle once again manifested. When I looked, not expecting much, I was amazed to see in the four-inch square field of the pot, a dozen or more pairs of tiny oval leaves floating a quarter-inch above the damp brown soil. Each of the paired leaves was no bigger than the size of a pin-head and yet it was undeniable that innumerable angels were dancing on each. Looking closer, I saw that each round pair was held aloft by the thinnest translucent thread of green wire—a wonder of tender engineering.

Viewing the modest scene, I was filled with an oversized joy.

What is this disproportionate delight that comes over me at the sight of such a small occurrence? How is it that each emerging green being so clearly sings to me with the voice of the divine? I don’t know, but I am grateful that my eyes and ears are tuned into this particular channel of grace.

I suppose part of our human search is to find the channels of grace to which our particular senses and self are tuned. How are you tuned? What is it that in the doing, seeing, or sensing a deep joy arises within you? Is it in the stories you watch or read? Is it in the sounds of music and voices harmonizing? Or the rhythmic running of your legs beneath you? Or the smells and sounds of food cooking or the delicious taste of a well-seasoned soup? Or walking amidst the murmurings of a forest of trees?

Whatever it is, know that this channel is how you and the world snuggle up to each other—this is how you and the world were designed to touch and be touched. Do your best to notice and appreciate the resonance of the unprecedented giving and receiving that is your true nature.

And, for my part, I will keep you posted on the sweet alyssum seedlings.

(Excerpted from forthcoming book Wandering Close to Home: A Year of Zen Reflections, Consolations, and Reveries. September 1, 2024.)