Joyous Easter to you, Blog-Buddies, if you celebrate this day as a holiday. And everyday inspiration if you don’t.
It would be great if you would share comments below about the best that Easter means to you.
I’ll do my bit in the article that follows.
For me, this holiday is about love. The triumph of love.
What Does and Doesn’t Matter to Me about Easter
Warning: What follows might seem highly controversial. For me, just me, what matters about the story of the risen Jesus isn’t that he could appear in an astral body after his crucifixion. Every ghost does that after death. I’m not saying that what Jesus did was exactly like a ghost.
But, again, just my perspective (as an Enlightenment Coach in the Age of Awakening): When Jesus returned from the dead, it was more comparable to what ghosts do than the traditional Christian perspective. (See more about that in comments that follow, #27 – 33.)
It doesn’t impress me so much, either, that those closest to Jesus were able to see and feel his presence. Beautiful though that was.
To me, this is a magnificent variation on something that happens on earth occasionally even when a deceased person doesn’t become a ghost. The “departed” can pay a call to say goodbye.
You don’t have to be a psychic to have sensed or seen or heard the presence of a loved one who was dying. Or to experience a celestial condolence call from someone who recently made a transition out of human embodiment.
Hasn’t that happened to you once or more? It has happened to me just a couple of times, and I’m no psychic.
Inspiration, Whatever You Believe about Resurrection
So what does inspire me about Easter? Love. The love that Jesus left as his legacy.
Jesus taught love so boldly. By all accounts his disciples took that love and lived it. I suppose that, after their master was physically gone, they drew upon love. That helped them keep on doing the best work they could, not to “Found Christianity” but to help others.
The loving legacy of Jesus can serve anyone as true inspiration.
So here’s a lighthearted gardening story to illustrate how love can help a person to grow and thrive. And maybe help solve certain gardening problems as well.
Confessions of a Loving, But Often Clueless, Gardener
My main credential as a gardener is caring about my plants. What could be called a serious “vegetable love.”
Admittedly I didn’t grow up knowing a thing about gardens. They weren’t a big feature of my childhood in Flushing, Queens.
In fact, I don’t remember seeing my first daffodil until I went to college. But I do love plants about as much as you might expect from a woman who has chosen the legal name of “Rose Rosetree.”
Besides, among my assortment of empath gifts, one of them is Plant Empath Ability.
Well, to get to the point, I did go out one day and plant my four new arborvitae, the sweet evergreens that promise to grow approximately to my height, 5 feet and change.
Planting these tree-sized responsibilities, three hours I spent: drenching my clothing in mud and my mood in happiness.
The work was physically demanding, though — since the part of my back yard where the trees were being planted was on a short but very steep hill.
Four Trees, Planted in a Sort of Downward Cascade
Tree #1, was named “Little Tree A,” in the spirit of Dr. Seuss. It was planted straight and true.
Of course! I’m a much better gardener now compared to several years ago, when I earnestly followed the instructions that came with my mail order roses and… planted my rose bushes upside down.
Tree #2, Little Tree B, also looked remarkably well seated in its new earthly home.
By contrast, I was beginning to look not so great. Unbelievably muddy, for starters. Plus I was beginning to huff and puff a bit, and not like a vibrantly healthy “Big Bad Wolf.”
Tree #3, Little Marco. Just kidding, really…
Little Tree C was definitely well positioned, when you looked at it straight on.
But what did I see after I got up and staggered down the hill and caught a look from a side angle?
Sadly, my little tree was tilted over like a very drunk passenger in the subway who was getting ready to faint.
About this I speak from experience. Not being drunk myself, but observing the man next to me when I took my very first subway ride in Paris. The guy suddenly passed outm dropping to the floor like something you might hold in your hand and then let go of completely.
Immediately another passenger leapt to his rescue, tenderly picked him up, and placing him onto a little folding seat. Is that the purpose of those tiny little folding seats in the Paris metro? Did the builders deliberately install a passed-out drunkards’ seat in every French subway car? Fascinating! I’ll always love Paris.
Well, I wasn’t going to stop planting my trees. I didn’t know quite what to do about Little Tree C, but I was vividly aware that this gardener’s reserves of energy were fading fast.
So I proceeded to plant Little Tree D. Not exactly a great job. Better at least than what I had inflicted on Little Tree C.
“Help!” I Asked My Friend Tracy. “What Do I Do Now?”
Several days later, I called Tracy. She’s a landscape designer part time, a full-time realtor. An angel full time and then some. Luckily for me, Trady has been my friend for over 20 years.
“Will it matter?” I whimpered to her. “Or do you think my tree might somehow straighten itself out, like growing towards the fun.”
Tracy broke the news to me, “Arborvitae likes to be straight.”
And then she told me what to do. If it worked I wouldn’t have to dig up my tree and prepare for more immersion in mud. (When gardening, that’s how I roll. By contrast, after hours of garden work Tracy will look immaculate. By contrast, I will look like a three-year-old and feel like Lucy Ricardo.)
What Saved My Tree
First I watered him well. Then I knelt in front of him, wrapped my arms around him for a hug, and leaned on him hard.
It worked. Little Tree C straightened up beautifully.
The power of a hug, Blog-Buddies. And maybe, too, the power of love.
It can fix a lot.
Easter blessings of love… to all of us who could use just a little bit more!