A friend of mine recently asked me who or what helped me cultivate a sense of reverence for life and for the world. I have been sitting with this question for a while and I am still not sure how to answer it. I think in part it comes from the numerous near death experiences I have had. The first one being when I was born. I think there is something about knowing how fragile life is that makes you gain a sense of reverence for it.
Maybe in part it was my parents who had this affinity for growing things. My father’s domain was the garden and plants in the backyard. He was committed to growing fresh vegetables and fruits for our family. My mothers was the front yard and side of the house where she constantly worked on her flower beds, making sure they were weed free. They had stories to go with several of the trees in our yard. The weeping willow was planted, according to my father, the day they bought me home from the adoption agency.
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