The Mimosa Tree


I usually read a page or two of some book before I go to bed. Recently, I was reading about Jung's decision to try to discover the myth by which he personally was living. He asked himself, "What was the game I enjoyed when I was a child?" Joseph Campbell asked a similar question: "What did you do as a child that created timelessness, that made you forget time?" That night, I began to drift in my memories, as aging people do. I drifted to a day when I was a preschool child with my mother, who was visiting her friend for coffee. In the back yard was a large Mimosa tree, cultivated in that rustic, branching, natural way by Sun, Wind and Rain - an image of Eastern Asia, with its fine pink flowers and mystic perfume. As I climbed high up a branch,  hanging on, hugging it, the sun entered my bones like an X-ray with a warmth and brightness boring deep in my essence, leaving a moment of "All is Right with my World" framed in memory -- a glowing happiness. This feeling has returned to me my whole life, whenever I see a Mimosa tree.  

My memory floated again to my old home where I grew up in Houston. There was a large elm tree in the back; the seeds always reminded me of bunches of bananas! I would climb high up the tree, perhaps looking for that timelessness of the Mimosa. One day, the first day of Spring, a Finch with green and yellow feathers landed right next to me. We looked at each other in a natural innocence and she sang a song to me.  I said, "Hello, little bird." There was magic in that moment as she turned her head inquisitively! Everyday I would climb the tree to see if my new friend was there, but she never was. Then the next year's first day of Spring came and I climbed the tree again, hoping, hoping I would see her once more. To my complete surprise she landed next to me. There was no mistake--it was her!  She sang her Song and gave me her eyes. I was hers.


Oh, of timeless days                                                                                                               when we are but a child.                                                                                                     Simple breezes of                                                                                                                   eternal moments,                                                                                                                  framed in our hearts,                                                                                                       magically change into                                                                                                                  our essence.

Thank you,                                                                                                                                  O Lord,                                                                                                                                       for blessed memories                                                                                                                      clinging to us,                                                                                                                               lightening our burdens,                                                                                                                and sweetening our rest.                                                                                                                           

mimosa pic..png