THE GIFT OF THE JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT, by Robin August

Most of my life, there has been a corner of emptiness that I have tried to fill. It was the injured 3-year-old who was terrified as the result of trauma. There were joyful moments and experiences to find along my path and I always looked for these to comfort me in this space. They gave me respites and I often looked to the next experience to soften the edges of that corner. Then I became very ill and was afraid that I would die. If I were to die, I would lose my chance to finally hold these moments altogether in my heart. Something, thank goodness, led me to healers, where I was desperately trying to find one more chance.

So, a few weeks ago, I made a commitment to myself--that no matter how sick I was, I was going to spend a lot of time with the things I love. Corny as it sounds, this was the gift of my illness; Time. Then I found myself on beloved trails near my home, looking for Jack-In-The-Pulpits. Gathering and collecting. So why, might one ask, are Jack-In-The-Pulpits so special to me? Well, each one is unique and very difficult to find. They're hidden under three very plain leaves. But if you have a very good eye, are in tune with the right conditions of rich nurturing soil, dampness, and sheltering trees, you might just find a Jack-In-The-Pulpit. I worked hard at finding these rare creatures.

At home, as I contemplated my next trek, a kindly jack-in-the-pulpit greed came over me. The first hunt I went on I collected only a few, as I was not yet accomplished at finding the conditions right for their growth. As I became better at it, I found more and more one afternoon.. I felt a little guilty since picking the spathe deprives future generations that come from the life of that single bloom. But, that did not stop me as I was contemplating all of the wonderful art creations that I could make from the dried pulpits. The next day I returned and gathered many more. It seemed as if every time I made the decision to finally stop collecting, put my pack down, and sip some water, two or three more would present themselves to me. I finally felt full and any anxiety about finding more left me. I waited a few days and returned, wondering what lessons I had learned. It was late in the afternoon, the light was fading, and it began drizzling. I soon realized that some time had passed since I had started out on my first mission and many new plants had grown on the forest floor. Some of them looked very similar to what I had spent weeks looking for. Others had grown taller than the jack-in-the-pulpits and now obscured them. It became much more difficult to find these precious creatures. Then I noticed that there was water in the bottom of my boots, that I was walking through a lot of poison ivy and vines, and that I was increasingly uncomfortable. I still had a long way to go to get out of these woods. The thought entered my mind, "If I don't try so hard, it won't mean that I have failed". I thought that I should write this down but I had neither pen nor paper in my backpack. Since I thought that this was an important realization, I did not want to forget it and so, spent the rest of my afternoon reciting this mantra. And by the time I found my way out of this mess, I realized that what I was really thinking was "If I don't try so hard, it won't mean that I will die".

So, no more hunting this year--

At least not for Jack-In-The-Pulpits.

P.S. I don't have to work or fight quite so hard to get well. I am tired but it is a comforting, familiar fatigue. I think that there is abundance enough surrounding me in the form of nature, art, and human beings. I can plant my feet in this soil, sip some water, and wait for some wonderful things to find me.

P.P.S. The blooms and leaves that I collect were on my property and in the fall following this story, I spread many Jack-In-The-Pulpit seeds. Now, I can roam my property every spring and observe these wonderful and spiritual beings.