What a climbing rose knows
The climbing rose bush had taken over, flourished uncontrollably running up into the nearby blue spruce, climbing down as like a curtain to hide the blueberry bushes. I approached cleaning and sprucing up this area with much trepidation. It was hard to decide where to start. I spent a couple days studying it, trying to figure out where the rose bush ended and the blueberry bushes started. I fretted that I would hurt it, trim too much, not trim enough. And let's not forget the "claws" that would no doubt scratch, tear and wound, perhaps even ensnaring me into a stuck predicament.
Funny how fear freezes us. Fear of the unknown things that lurk somewhere out there in the future, cautious imaginings of long-held beliefs and unsubstantiated what ifs.
Best to start somewhere, just begin. As I pruned and sculpted I eventually revealed the still living blueberry bushes which there were three, standing proudly. Pruning away the deadwood. Things we no longer need. Push aside the curtain of doubt and reveal the inner steadfast strengths that we had forgotten. Pull up the weeds that threatened to choke the rose bush and blueberry bushes, all of it must go.
It is good to learn life lessons from the rose bush. One thing is that after it is trimmed, there will be many new canes that will push out from the main stalk. And the other is its thorns, "claws" as mentioned in The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupery, that can snag at your clothes and skin. Our first reaction is to pull away, which of course only makes matters worse as it fixes deeper the sharp hooked thorn. But If you stop just long enough to slow down and gently lean into the rose bush, there will be a natural release and the thorn will let loose its grip.
― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince
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