The Season Beneath the Soil
Tulips vanish. Auren lilies fade. On the surface, it looks like nothing remains. A bed of empty stems and withered leaves. Yet below, life is quietly at work. Bulbs store energy, roots explore soil, and subtle instruction flows from one season to the next. What appears dead is simply waiting for its moment.
Creative work moves in the same rhythm. Ideas, insights, and projects often lie dormant, unseen and unacknowledged, as if nothing is happening. But beneath awareness, connections are forming. Threads weave between thoughts. Patterns assemble quietly, preparing for emergence.
Patience is not passive. Incubation is active in a hidden register. The mind, the body, the field of observation itself, gathering and organizing. When the first green tip breaks the soil, it carries all that unseen time: the digestion, the quiet attention, the preparation.
This is the rhythm of lasting creativity. Not every movement needs immediate recognition. Not every effort blooms instantly. The soil must be nourished, the bulbs rested, the mind held steady. And when the season returns, the flowers will rise, carrying the integrity of the work that never showed itself.
Even in absence, the field is alive. Even in stillness, the work unfolds. Like tulips and auren lilies, the creative mind knows the cycle: retreat, store, emerge. And when it does, it carries not only beauty, but the weight and clarity of what was silently tended all along.
Even when nothing seems to happen, pay attention to the quiet work beneath the surface. Nurture the soil of your mind and soul, tend the roots of your ideas, and trust the unseen rhythm. Retreat is not loss, stillness is not idleness, and absence is not emptiness. When the season returns, what emerges will carry the integrity of all that was patiently held.
[Tao Bai - Sunset Tulips, 2023]
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