Walking in nature, in a forest or the desert, there is a beautiful balance apparent. The sun on the leaves are food for the the trees so they grow. The leaves in their turn fall and drop, feeding the insects in the earth below. The brittle dead leaves become fresh dirt through the process.

Butterflies, birds, bees, mammals and lizards all have their place. And I find my place when I walk among them.

There are cycles in the balance. Thing sprout, grow, bloom and die.

Sometimes disaster strikes and everything dies at once.

When I was a kid in Alaska, the flower most common, that was an everywhere flower, kept us company all through summer. It sprouted and bloomed and went to fluffy seed and then summer was over.

It was called fireweed. The story I heard is that this flower was tough, and it could survive very harsh conditions.

That’s probably why it did so well in the short-sun North.

But other, kinder environment had this flower too. After a fire swept through a forest all plants are dead. Blackened trees and scorched earth left behind.

Until the next rain. Then the plant pioneer would march up from the decimation. The cycle of rebirth would continue in stalks of purple flowers.

During the last two years I’ve had five jobs. Seems like a lot of disaster maybe. Somehow though, beauty has emerged every time.

Rebirth is what life does. It is subtle when the rebirth is in the midst of thrumming life. The tragedy of a consuming destruction is more dramatic.

And the beauty of the green leaves and delicate flowers growing on the black field is unforgettable.

This. This is the resilience of the balance. The cycle will go on. The seeds of our rebirth have been there all the time.