Wildflower Church

The sandy soil of our high desert habitat does not seem like it would be very hospitable to flora species. But given the right amount of moisture, the desert blooms in beautiful carpets of color. This year the towsendia daisies (Townsendia florifera and parryi) are prolific. They hug the desert soil with barely a stem, seeking to keep a low profile. Radiating petals of pink to white flowers appear like a series of radiating disks floating on the sand.

Another species, narrow-leaf phacelia (Phacelia linearis), prefer to stand up on the landscape like soldiers marching in haphazard lines only the flower understands. The erect stems of delicate lavender and white blossoms invite a closer look. They want us to get down to their level and listen to the whispers hidden in their understated beauty.

A wildflower is one of the adornments of the church in which I worship earth and sky. This is where I tithe the essence of my life. I think of Khalil Gibran’s words, “Forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair.” Although I have little hair with which the wind can play, I can feel nature’s breath mingle in my stubble. And my bare feet upon the earth is like a pilgrimage into my own true nature.

No wonder our lineage master, Dudjom Lingpa, received all his teachings from the dakinis, the wisdom dance of the elements—earth, water, fire, wind, and space. There is nothing written in a book that can teach what nature bestows in every moment. Our practice is learning how to receive the wisdom with grace and humility.