Daily Signet
In our Northern band of mother earth, mid-winter can be bleak—snow on snow, frost on frost. And I feel the sap in my limbs withdraw to some place hidden deep underground. And I often hunker down and simply endure ‘til spring and the rising of the sap once more. But even if my limbs are numb and creation seems but a distant memory or a far-off dream, still in that deep underground there is a secret seed and a secret spring. Every day, I look at the still-alive mullein that split a concrete crack inches outside our garage door last summer—still green now, still fuzzy, still creating deep underground what it needs to burst forth and tall next summer. When I stop and listen deep, I can hear the seed of me splitting, germinating, pushing up as well against the frozen earth of me.
Ben Leichtling
On This Day…