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Leslie Staller

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Inspiration

How a Watermelon Reminded me to Grow my Dream

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watermelon stand at a farmers market

I glance over in anticipation. A striped ball sat tucked into the corner of my kitchen floor for a few days waiting patiently.

That ball? One of my favorite summertime retreats—yellow watermelon from the farmer’s market.

They are the best, sweet and colorful, and always full of seeds. And there is only a tiny window each year when they are available.

I finally cut it open and dig in with delight. Watermelon juice running down my hands and the sides of the cutting board.

As I was digging out the seeds before each bite, it occurred to me how most watermelons I buy these days are seedless. And so a often a disappointment, mushy and bland.

In contract, how rich, crunchy and flavorful this seeded one is. Perhaps it is the farmer’s market or because it is yellow. Maybe it’s because I’m slowed down as I remove the perceived obstacles, the seeds, so that I truly savor every bite.

My gut says it’s the uncompromised wholeness, seeds and all.

So often in life we look for shortcuts—a quick fix—a way to remove the obstacles to get to where we desire to go quickly. And then feel unfulfilled when we arrive, like that seedless watermelon that, while convenient to eat, is often tasteless and mushy. Not to mention unsustainable as without seeds, there is no way to grow the next generation.

Like that unsustainable watermelon, we sometimes compromised our dreams and arrive at our destination missing some of the richness in life.

Yet we are rich…as rich as we choose to dream and action those dreams. We perceive and often feel complex as human beings and we can live life that way. And when we are humans be-ing, we really are simple as we allow ourselves to be open and present to all that life offers. The joys and the perceive obstacles.

The fruit and the seeds of the melon both serve a purpose. Both nourish us…now in in the next cycle of growth.

I’ve spent more moments than I care to admit avoiding the seeds—the perceived obstacles because I wanted to fit in—to belong. I was afraid of being rejected by others. So instead, I dug out the seeds of creativity and joy and created my own seedless watermelon.

Unwilling to risk being rejected by others, I simply rejected myself. Then hid for many years in my story of not enough. We each have our story. Our journey.*

And we each have a dream we so hunger for and are afraid to manifest.

So Ive drawn a line in the sand. Stepped out from behind the curtain and created a Facebook group, Breaking up with the Fear of Rejection—Midlife dreams manifest.

My desire is to have a safe space where together we get to gather and plant our seeds. The ones we’ve collected and squirreled away waiting for this moment to sprout and grow. Join us here.

The time is now to harvest what you’ve been secretly growing for decades. My mother promised us kids while we sat eating watermelon and spitting seeds, the driveway rapidly littered with black specs…if we swallowed one, it would eventually sprout and grow out our ears.

So it’s time to listen. To honor that dream planted inside you many years ago. To nurture that dream in a way that only you can. Now is the time to birth and grow fully into the gift you are here to share with the world.

*photo by William Bout on Unsplash and cover photo by Avel Chuklanov on Unsplash

Filed Under: manifest dreams

Climb Aboard

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Spring ice break up
Shattered fragments of a whole
Smashing up against the shoreline

Spring births from
her winter-white hibernation
Where do we slumber, too
Lost in thoughts of everything but now

Coaxed out of hiding by the fierce
ever-shifting winds
Ferry boat sails in the open channel
amid the fragments
of your dreams
Climb aboard
Carefully holding a bouquet
of ice shards
As your fingers drip puddles on the
grey and cracked sidewalk below

You lick your rosy-red
wind-chapped lips
Wrapping frosted fingers
around a still steaming mug

Sip deeply from the heart

Filed Under: poem

Reassemblage Point

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Canyon d'Chelly wall | Reassemblage Point
Awaken to possibility
You are the one
And the many
Called by 108 names

Rare is the roar that echoes
Filling the canyon with sound
Leaving the towering naked walls shiny

As rough worn surfaces
Steaked by the elements of eons
call back—remember

Remember
You are as old as I
And as young as this spark of a moment

Hear the sound
Float in the sound
Be the sound
As the world shatters
Only for the puzzle pieces
To assemble in a new configuration

Nothing is lost
No thing lost

Wrapped in a blanket
of pure white snow
Illuminated under
the brilliant blue sky

Turn inward
As the roar echoes off the womb of
the canyon walls

Depositing you in possibility

Filed Under: poem

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