Sunflowers have lit up my dreams
spiraling me into the depths of my truth –
Who I am essentially.
Sunflowers have lined the roads I
have traveled welcoming this inner dance churning up
Emotions as I let go and allow more.
Sunflowers have mystically popped
from paintings, greeting cards, trinkets mirroring
The beauty of this grand adventure
And I find myself saying silently:
I still wanna’ be a sunflower!
Below is an excerpt from
my book Passing On Hope. This piece still affects me in ways I can
recognize and ways I cannot. I have a
sunflower pendant that I wear with a diamond in the center that my late-husband,
John, designed for me after my book was published. The diamond is from a ring he wore for
several years that he dismantled to create the pendant. He surprised me one afternoon with it. Being a romantic, he tricked me into
believing the box held my watch which he had picked up from the jeweler after
being cleaned. He handed me the box
urging me to check it out and when I opened it, I burst into tears knowing the
significance of this diamond and being touched deeply by this grand gesture of
love.
He said: I want you to wear this every day and
remember
YOU ARE A SUNFLOWER IN THIS WORLD!
The invitation this day is
for you to remember: You are a sunflower
in this world. SHINE ON!
I Want to Be a Sunflower
“How does one become a
butterfly?…You must want to fly so much that you are willing to give up being a
caterpillar.”—Trina Paulus
Three months shy of my 38th birthday, I finally
know what I want to be when I grow up. I want to be a sunflower. Its stem is a
sturdy green rope tough enough to hold its own through the winds from the
severe summer thunderstorms that produce golf ball-size hail. Its delicate
golden pedals are able to endure whatever comes, while exposed so openly with
bright unwavering smiles, inviting all who pass by to partake in its joy. Its
core is the silent hardy heart residing in the backdrop of the stem and the
pedals; it is filled with morsels of strength, beauty, and the great courage to
drop her seeds in hopes of leaving something behind when her season is over.
My desire to be a sunflower began one morning while out on a
bike ride when I glimpsed a spectacular sight out of the corner of my eye: A
single sunflower stood brilliantly elevated and shimmering among a field of
overgrown brush. Beyond its physical beauty, it spoke to me, essence to
essence, infusing me with inspiration. A voice came from deep inside me, “I
want to be a sunflower in this world.” I wasn’t sure what that meant, but the
idea came to me from a place within that knows far more than I do, and I
trusted its wisdom completely. This realization made me feel good, the way I
felt as a child when I thought of becoming a grown-up, out on my own. I didn’t
know how I would get there, but I knew that I would.
Sunflowers had never been special to me. I can remember
there being sunflowers on our dish towels and pot holders when I was growing up,
and I found that horribly cheesy. Year round, Mom
had artificial sunflowers in a pottery vase, as if she were trying to keep the
sun shining no matter the season. I thought of them as gaudy, something old people
must do because their taste gets stuck in days gone by. The only thing that I
thought was nice about sunflowers was their bold shade of yellow—until I
experienced the one that would
inspire me to my new calling.
The day of my discovery, I was cruising along the
countryside in Albany, Kentucky, the same countryside where I have
put in hundreds of miles running and riding on my custom-made triathlon
bicycle. Some of the locals who I adore have asked me if I am an Olympic
athlete, which is unbelievably generous of them. That question makes me blush
and wish I were a liar capable of playing out this old childhood fantasy of
being an Olympian in any sport. I must look like a hard-core athlete slumped
over my aero bars like Lance Armstrong cranking out a time trial during the
Tour de France. More than anything, though, I’m a softy, full of fluff who
enjoys more than anything just being outside surrounded by nature’s glory.
Before the mysterious sunflower grabbed hold of me, I had
found paradise in most everything while out on my bike rides or runs, drinking
in the views of the does dancing across the foothills and breathing in the
fresh summer air laced with honeysuckle. I appreciated all of the gardens cared
for so tenderly and the fields of wildflowers that held a canvas of pinks,
purples, reds, and oranges. I admired the sheer magnificence of the butterflies
floating about. All of these prior experiences were trumped by this sunflower
that reached inside me, lighting a fire of passionate purpose.
The week before I had spotted the sunflower, I had bought my mom a fresh-cut bouquet of flowers
at the Indianapolis
farmers’ market from a vendor who I had always passed by in favor of another.
Wanting to buy my mom something different, I was drawn to the uniqueness of this
vendor’s designs that day. The bouquet I bought was filled with lavender, light
yellow snapdragons, pink lilies, and a single sunflower.
When I called my mom to tell her about the sunflower that had grabbed hold of my heart and made me want to
be a sunflower in this world, she surprisingly didn’t think I was crazy. She
reminded me of the bouquet with the sunflower that I had bought her just a week
before, saying that she had just thrown it out. Then she added in a whimsical
voice as if joining me in my pursuit that the sunflower hung in there the
entire week, never fading or withering. I wanted to be a sunflower even more
after hearing this.
In my heightened excitement, I didn’t run out and have
business cards made saying, “Kathy McHugh, sunflower,” because I knew it would
take a conscious effort on my part to become a sunflower. I did tell a few
others, though. Karen, my friend and editor, received an email from me
announcing my quest. True to form, her brain filled with everything her eyes have
ever scanned, her ears have ever heard, and her emotions have ever experienced,
and this pure heart told me about a scene in the movie Calendar Girls where John, the gardener, expresses his love for the
sunflower before he dies.
John says, “I don’t think there’s anything on this planet
that more trumpets life than the sunflower. For me, that’s because of the
reason behind its name, not because it looks like the sun, but because it
follows the sun. During the course of the day, the head tracks the journey of
the sun across the sky, a satellite dish for sunshine. Wherever light is, no
matter how weak, these flowers will find it. That’s such an admirable thing and
such a lesson in life.”
This scene helped me understand more clearly what it would
take to become a sunflower. My challenge would be to find the light in all
people no matter how difficult, detecting their light through whatever darkness
was obvious to me. This is what those dear people who saw me as an Olympic
athlete did. It wasn’t about my high-tech bike or my fashionable running gear.
These sunflowers saw me in an elevated state beyond my imperfections. Olympic
athletes have compact bodies of steel, not bellies that jiggle up and down when
they run or hang from their bodies when they slump over their aero bars. The Kentucky locals didn’t
see me as I see me; they chose to zero in on the trace of goodness radiating
from my spirit in action and drew an incredible assumption without knowing me
apart from being a runner and a cyclist.
As I contemplated how I would become a sunflower, my friend
Linda came to mind. She had introduced me to the Hindu expression namasté,
which she explained means, “I see God in you.” She has a sticker on the back
window of her jeep so she can send love to all those she passes or who pass by
her, which is magnificent, just like she is.
This same expression is lovingly said at the end of my yoga
class by our teacher, Chuck. Everyone replies namasté back to him and to the
others in the class. This practice saturates me with love for myself and the
others who I mostly know by face and energy, not name, occupation, social
status, or place of residence. This is what it must feel like to be a
sunflower, focusing on the light within us all and being elevated by it.
I see God in these people, not how proficient they are at
doing the yoga poses or how ripped they look in their workout duds or how
perfect their hair stays while mine is drenched in sweat. I see God in myself,
leaving my class better than I entered, wanting to be kinder to myself and to
others no matter the circumstance. My husband gets the full benefit because he
sees me immediately following yoga, but I lose steam somewhere between falling
asleep that night and waking back up in the morning.
The work would be not to let my commitment to being a
sunflower waiver, to be consistent in what feels amazingly right to my heart.
While out on a run, I spied the dirty man who was nameless and faceless to me.
He always wore dingy T-shirts, yellow stained and riddled with holes. He was
covered with cracked skin from working the fields all of his life and was far
younger than he appeared.
This man had built a shrine for birds on his 2 acres of
paradise, and he was much more than what I had labeled him to be. I felt the
need to stop running so I could ask him about the birdhouses, each unique in
size and design.
His voice was low, as he barely opened his mouth when he
spoke. His pale blue eyes glazed from the sweat that dribbled in as he push
mowed his land revealed an enthusiasm for life in his love for the birds. He
created this sanctuary with his own hands and a heart bursting with reverence
for these tiny creatures. God stood before me in the form of this man who I had
passed by countless times over the past several years, waving politely but not
caring to see him in his enormity. This experience began my sprouting.
Then I was challenged by the woman who is part owner of the
dock where we boat. She is not known for her pleasantness among the patrons,
who pay her a lot of money for her to then repay them by towing cars, towing
boats, and kicking them off the dock when they have protested. She was easy for
me to avoid, as I only saw her when I took off or returned from a run.
Well, she was easy to avoid until she placed not one but two
extra sticky stickers that the sun baked on the front windshield of my vehicle.
The stickers were warning that I had violated the parking policy because my
right wheel was over the line in the parking space, and if I didn’t correct
this problem immediately, my vehicle would be towed.
I wanted to choke the woman at the dock, tell her off and
tell everyone who would listen what a crazy b--ch
she was. I didn’t choke her, and I backed off when speaking to her because my
head started spinning, my ears were on fire, and I was about to unleash the
wrath of Kath, also known as white-trash me. I did tell all of my friends on
the dock that this woman was a crazy b--ch,
and they agreed, sharing their stories about her latest antics, making me feel
much better, at least for the length of time I was riding on my wave of
righteousness. My desire to be a sunflower had taken a backseat to my rage.
Seeing this woman continues to fill me with a sense of dread
because I want to see God in her, and all I see is the Wicked Witch in The Wizard of Oz delighting in her power
to take Toto away from Dorothy. I don’t call her a crazy you-know-what anymore
because I try not to say that ugly word, and I am able to bless her when I see
her. I am still searching for that flicker of light because I know that when I
can actually see it, not pretend to see it, I will grow into more of what I
want to be.
Each day, I awaken asking to be a sunflower in this world,
having a talk with myself about what that means and recommitting to the
process. Doing a little research, I discovered that 10 years ago, the sunflower
became a symbol of a world free of nuclear weapons. This has happened in some
parts of the world, but the world is not yet free of them. After the Ukraine gave up its last nuclear warhead, the
defense ministers of the United States,
Russia, and the Ukraine
met on a former missile base, scattering sunflower seeds together. The former
U.S. Secretary of Defense, William Perry said, “Sunflowers instead of missiles
in the soil ensure peace for future generations.” This fills me with hope that
as long as I keep progressing in my work to become all that I want to be, the
seeds I sow will be planted in those who will be here long after my journey has
ended.
Meditation: What kind of
flower do you want to be in the garden of life? What kind of seeds are you
planting in the world? Can you see the beauty in those who are different?
Action: Walk around the
grounds of a spectacular garden that speaks to you and discover what kind of
flower you are. If you enjoy the great outdoors, pay attention to the fields
filled with wildflowers. Let wildflowers symbolize the magnificence of all that
you are and the power of one seed planted.
