Flower in a vase

Before we moved to Tsawwassen, B.C., I visualized myself researching and reading and exploring the place, going deep and wide in putting down new roots. After all, I’d done it before, both in Paraguay where we lived a couple of years in the 1980s and over the decades in Winnipeg. I wrote novels set in both places, so that was part of it, but the writing meshed with my own desire to know and belong.

We’ve been here two years now and we love it, but I confess I haven’t done much about the roots. I’ve been living like a cut flower in a beautiful vase.

Is my inaction a factor of aging? A sense there’s too much material in “new” for the available energy? Do I even need more roots? I recall reading of a pastor’s disappointment that people weren’t enthusiastic about an exciting new discipleship program on offer; he saw it as resistance to growth. I didn’t know the situation but my first thought was, I bet he has a lot of olders in his church. For olders, enthusiasm often resides in what they already possess, rather than in quest for the new.

Nevertheless (there’s always a nevertheless), I can’t let myself off too quickly. Pondering my resistance, picking at reasons for it, I find my curiosity waking to the history of where I live, especially in awareness of being on traditional territory of the Tsawwassen and Musqueam First Nations. I went on a bit of a local tour the other day and learned there’s evidence here of human life going back some 9000 years. Wow! That’s overwhelming; it’s humbling. Paradoxically, it makes me feel I belong here too, for all flesh is like grass…its glory like the flower…the grass withers…the flower falls.


14 thoughts on “Flower in a vase

    • Ah, very good question! No moment, it’s no firm line, and I think throughout adulthood one is always engaged with both forward and back, but the proportions change as there is more back to see and less forward. When young, one supposes there’s enough time to accomplish everything, or at least lots, and that’s good because one takes risks and flies off and flounders in all directions, and now, at 68, I realize there isn’t enough time, and so it wonderfully forces one to consider and focus on what matters most, or more.

      Liked by 1 person

      • Thanks for the clarification Dora! Greatly appreciated. Wise to see it not as an either or but rather as a shifting scale, which changes depending on the moment (and the age). I suppose another way of framing the question might be, what are the barriers to living in the moment that exist at any age? And how do those differ as you age?

        I do think prioritization is the key to aging well… though, knowing what is most important to oneself is a helpful compass for decision making at any age. Thanks for your reflections so far! Looking forward to the reflections that are to come!

        Liked by 1 person

    • Oh thanks for this; I’ve been thinking that must be the difference. Which doesn’t mean one doesn’t like the new place… but I think we understand each other on this.


  1. Really insightful Dora The contentment with the past and present, coupled with a perceived diminished interest in the new was what our father seemed to be in his latter years – a disengagement which I fear on the one hand and an emerging reality on the other.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I like your comment about “olders” not necessarily being enthralled with “new” but cherishing and wanting to grow with what they already have. It’s not being against the new, but realizing that the old has not yet been exhausted


  3. Fresh cut flowers in a vase – I love this picture. When I receive flowers, there is this sense of having something so decadent, so luxurious, like attending a symphony. Quickly gone, but so rich during the time they last.

    Liked by 1 person

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