This is magnolia grandiflora (great flowering magnolia). It is blooming now, a magnificent forty or fifty foot tree nearby. The newer leaves are a glossy, bright green. But it's the flowers that are the real draw. The petals are thick and snow white. The edges, curled so the rain collects and beads inside. The fragrance is similar to gardenia, but lighter.
I visit the splendid tree everyday — a kind of pilgrimage — just to look. My whole face fits inside the huge bloom. I am one with the little pollinator insects that are hanging around, the breeze that lifts the branch a moment then falls, the song sparrow singing over my right shoulder while I take it all in.
While St. Francis of Assisi lived in the West 1182-1226, the Persian mystical poet, Rumi, lived contemporaneously 1207-1273. Rumi wrote:
"Your depression is connected to your insolence and refusal to praise. Whoever feels himself walking on the path and refuses to praise — that man or woman steals from others everyday - is a shoplifter! The sun became full of light when it got hold of itself. Angels only began shining when they achieved discipline. The sun goes out whenever the cloud of non-praising comes. The moment the foolish angel felt the arrogant lack of respect, he heard the door close."
But what's the praise? It isn't so simple as a memorized prayer — someone else's words. Infact, it needn't be words at all. The praise is simply the being there: non-grasping, aware, grateful, ready, wide-eyed, even hushed. The insolence Rumi speaks of is that cheeky sense of entitlement which can afflict us — the ignorant ingratitude, the rudeness which ignores or misses the marvel that's right here, right now.
