The Thud of Lemons
As liquid gold continues to melt over our endless weeks of northern hemisphere Summer, I am struck by the lemon trees in my garden – their fruit so full and heavy that they are yearning to be picked, and yet at some point drop down to earth with a thud of their own accord. A specific day and a specific time for every single one of them, and yet impossible to predict when this will be.
It’s as if nature has a secret time code for each and every lemon - the secrecy part of its intrinsic beauty. Similar to childbirth when one cannot know the specific time it will all begin (and yet begin it will), there is no forcing it, no more than we can force the sun to rise or a flower to bloom.
That yearning to “know”, to “get” right now, to “have” today is so often with us… I am reminded of the first lines of a poem by David Whyte: “Let the apple ripen on the branch, beyond your need to take it down.” That deep let go is a wonderful albeit at times excruciating exercise in and of itself.
As nature knows when the time is right, your body does as well. The secret perhaps then is to be very, very quiet... and listen for the thud of your own inner lemons.
