my seeds of passion

(my vegetable collage was done with great love by Ernst. these are pictures of the vegetables i grow @ La Huerta, taken during several harvests)

bernadette de los Santos
25 dec 07
many of my dreams take form when i trust the small seedlings buried underneath my heart. sometimes the seeds seem insignificant, not worthy of my hope. i can push aside the feelings that might arise, claiming to be weeds, but i know now that those little sprouts can be the very source of a passionate garden.

many times I have seeds buried within me that are longing to be watered, hoping to be unearthed, waiting to share their fragrant scent. my creativity is born from the smallest seeds; if i can nurture my dreams with the belief that i have something to give, i can learn to trust that my roots will spread into tomorrow. when a seedling of passion awakens, it can bloom into a never-ending bouquet of happiness for me to hold.

moving back to Baao challenged me to dig deeper into myself, it was not as easy as i thought it would be. even though i was in love with life and starting my journey solo, leaving Laguna was not taken lightly. my heart ached in the middle of joy. Baao and i were not instant friends, we didn’t click right away. no, ours was a slow, steady coming together. there were days when Baao seemed unbearable, cold and hard, and days when i struggled with the culture, and the lack of a cup-of-coffee friends. on those days when the different rules and customs curdled inside of me and grated against the free-spirited me, the girl who wore flowers in her hair, it seemed some sacred spirit would come and stand by me. in the midst of those blue days, something would always tug at my sleeves, as if to say, “here, oh here!” the heart on my sleeves would mend, a smile would blink away the tears, and the seeds started to open up in the town i now call home.

what i know now is that i must tend to my garden of desire; let the seeds take root, water them regularly with a symbolic gesture, create from the source of my interior life. i grab a pen, or a paint brush and create a splash; i let the river flow. i take a needle with thread and widen the seams, or knit together the parts of me that need to come together. i sing my song, dance in red shoes, write the poetry that is in front of me! today! now! be who i am! allow the seeds i’ve gathered to grow.