Apricity
An apricot seed that had sprouted in my compost last summer has been growing in a pot. In the fall, when it had lost its leaves and gone dormant, I couldn't tell if it was part of normal process or if it was struggling.
Before the last snowstorm and the predicted subzero temps, I had moved it indoors. Yesterday I noticed that it had begun leafing out in new green. The summer that had always been inside it was suddenly springing forth. Maybe because of apricity or maybe because it needed to show me that it was still alive.
Watching the Venerable Monks arrive in Ashland, VA yesterday and how they were greeted by the crowds every step of the way—with smiles, laughter, tears of happiness and good cheer—has made me see what their most important work had been. It is showing us what's real and vital in a world currently controlled by falsities and violence. Yes, we need to hold both realities in order to get through this, but there is something to be said for the smiles and the kindness which are still there and had not gone anywhere. The same as summer always exists, somewhere, even in the depth of winter. The Monks are allowing us to rest in the knowing.
you give it shelter
and each winter branch will sprout
invincible green
~
Mariya Gusev co-edits Haiku Pause, a formal haiku newsletter on Substack, and will be teaching haiku at Orange: coffee. art. music., a Yin Hoo Foundation for the Arts initiative, this coming March. Her work has won awards and appears in local and international publications, most recently in The Sciku Project, #FemkuMag, Wales Haiku Journal, Trash Panda, Asahi Haikuist Network, LEAF, Failed Haiku, and Tricycle: The Buddhist Review. Her daily haiku practice serves as both witnessing and prayer.
https://orangecoffeeartmusic.com/residencies/
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