I watched as it was formed. Peeking out as a bud, then uncurling. I meditated to it's newborn green form waving into life. It darkened over summer to deep green - feeding its mother tree, feeding our earth with oxygen....that tulip leaf outside my bedroom window.
Of course, it wasn't alone! It had a twin that shared its tiny branch, and the entire tree was covered with these shapely leaves. But it was that one I remembered each day - to look for - to settle into.
One day, as I watched out my window, trying to lift my spirits....it was a blue day and I didn't want to be down, but I was. I looked out across the expanse toward the grotto just under the ridge of the mountain. That day, it just didn't ease the dis-ease. Negative thoughts kept intruding on lighter ones and I gave up on lifting myself. It was going to be one of those days.
Then I saw it - that tulip leaf - out of the corner of my eye. Almost jumping as if in excitement! Swinging, vibrantly waving back and forth. Was it trying to catch my attention? How could a leaf jump and move in such circles while it's twin remained so still? That tulip leaf I saw come into life, I thought - I could hear it - HAPPY - HAPPY - Joy, Joy, Joy. And I smiled. There is no way you can look at such excitement, such.... JOY and not smile. Sunlight filled the window view, green was very green, yellow oh so yellow. And life was good. Life was joy.
The days became cooler. My favorite season; autumn. I knew the tulip leaf was going to let go - someday. First, it's twin turned yellow, then brown about it's edges. But THE tulip leaf remained unchanged. Whipping around each morning, as if just being busy living and giving life. One day, it's twin was gone. Still, tulip leaf danced on the wind.
Week before last, it turned yellow. It still waved and spun around, but I knew it was no longer feeding it's mother. Some day, I'll look out and it won't be there anymore, I thought. I wondered how I would feel. Last week I left the monastery for several days. Would it still be there when I returned? Many of the other leaves on the tree were dark brown - still clinging to branches even though well past it's time of life. Not even the wind could separate some of those leaves from their attachment. Maybe my tulip leaf would do the same.
I returned at night and although I turned off the lights in my room, it was a black void across the expanse out there. Next morning I went to prayer before the sun gave me enough light to make out shapes beyond tree branches. When I returned to my room, I hopped onto the bed and looked out. The branch was empty. The tulip leaf had let go...while I was gone...while it was yellow...still bright and I know, while still full of joy.
