(Damselfly visiting the Tyler Arboretum. July 2007)
The finest qualities of our nature, like the bloom on fruits, can be preserved only by the most delicate handling. ~ Henry David Thoreau
I’ve been thinking a lot about delicate things lately. I’m in self-improvement/-reflection modes, something that is seasonal with me. As the harvests begin to come in, I take a look at the seeds I planted in the early spring to see how well they’ve grown. Or not grown, as the case may be.
Some things have grown quite well, blossoming and blooming, coming to fruition. Others were either stunted due to lack of care or never made it past the planting stage. And then there are the weeds, old habits creeping back to clutter up my garden. A few of those are balanced out by the unexpected flowering of something I thought I’d forgotten or given up on.
I often forget that the things I learned when I quit smoking can be applied to pretty much every self-improvement project. The most important of those lessons was to nurture and nourish my quit on a daily basis so it could and would continue to grow and strengthen. Even more than six years later, I still wake up every morning and say to myself, “Just for today, I will not smoke.”
It was a delicate thing, my smoking quit, especially in the beginning stages. It’s still a delicate thing because it would be so easy to decide on a lark to have just one cigarette to see if it still tastes and feels good. I get the occasional cravings and cigarette hauntings. The ghosts of cigarettes past hang more in my dreams than in my waking mind these days, but they’re still there.
Of course I know I can’t have just one cigarette. Or even one puff of one cigarette. No need to remind me of that. I mention this because I know someone out there might want to remind me. I don’t have anyone in particular in mind. It’s something that happens whenever I mention cravings or thoughts of indulging in just one cigarette.
Recent reminders of lessons learned fall under the category of unexpected flowerings, beautiful blooms that suddenly popped up where I’d forgotten I’d planted something.
The seeds of those serendipitous blooms will come in handy in the future, as I get ready for my autumn and winter plantings.
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