The Daffodil Principle

Several time my daughter had telephoned to say, "Mother, you must come see the daffodils before they are over." I wanted to do, but she lived two hours' drive away. "I will come next Tuesday," I promised, a little reluctantly, on her third call.

Next Tuesday dawned cold and rainy. Still, I had promised, and so I set off. When I finally walked into Carolyn's house and hugged my grandchildren, I said, "Forget the daffodils! The road is invisible in the clouds and fog, and there is nothing in the world except you and these children that I want to see bad enough to drive another inch for!"

My daughter smiled and said, "We drive in this all the time, Mother."

"Well, you won't get me back on the road until it clears, and then I'm heading for home!" I assured her.

"I was hoping you'd take me over to the garage to pick up my car. It's just a few blocks," Carolyn said. "I'll drive."

After several minutes, I had to ask, "Where are we going? This isn't the way to the garage!"

"We're going to my garage the long way - by way of the daffodils."

"Carolyn," I said sternly, "please turn around."

"It's all right, Mother, I promise. You will never forgive yourself if you miss this."

After about 20 minutes, we turned onto a small gravel road and I saw a small church and a hand-written sign: "Daffodil Garden". We got out of the car and each took a child's hand, and I followed Carolyn down the path. Then we turned a corner of the path, and I looked up and gasped.

Before me lay the most glorious sight. It looked as though someone had taken a great vat of gold and poured it down over the mountain peak and slopes. The flowers were planted in majestic swirling patterns, great ribbons and swaths of deep orange, white, lemon yellow, salmon, pink, saffron and butter yellow. Each different-coloured variety was planted as a group so that it swirled and flowed like its own river, with its own unique hue.

"But who has done this?" I asked.

"It's just one woman. She lives on the property. That's her home." Carolyn pointed to a well-kept house that looked small and modest in the midst of all that glory. We walked up to it. On the patio was a poster with the headline, Answers to the Questions I Know You are Asking.

The first answer read: "50,000 bulbs". The second was, "One at a time, by one woman. Two hands, two feet, and very little brain." The third: "Began in 1958."

There it was, The Daffodil Principle. I thought of this woman whom I had never met, whom more than 40 years before, had begun to bring her vision of beauty and joy to an obscure mountain top. Just by planting one bulb at a time, year after year, this unknown woman had changed the world in which she lived. She had created something of ineffable magnificence, beauty and inspiration.

The principle of her daffodil garden taught is one of the greatest principles of celebration. That is, learning to move toward out goals and desires one step at a time - often, just one baby step - and learning to love the doing, and learning to use the accumulation of time. When we multiply tiny pieces of time with this small increments of daily effort, we, too, will find we can accomplish great things. We can change the world.

"It makes me sad in a way," I admitted to Carolyn. "What might I have accomplished if I had thought of a wonderful goal 35 or 40 years ago and had worked away at it 'one bulb at a time' through all those decades. Just think of what I might have been able to achieve."

In her usual direct way, my daughter said, "Start tomorrow."

Yes, it is pointless to think of the lost hours of yesterdays. The way to make learning a lesson of celebration instead of a cause for regret is to only ask, "How can I put this to use today?"

So, stop waiting ... until you get a new car; until your apartment is paid off; until you go back to school; until you lose 5kg; until you get married; until your kids leave home until you retire; until summer, spring, winter or fall; until you die. There is no better time than right now to be happy.

Sent to Starmag by SO K.E