“Natural beauty is essentially temporary and sad; hence the impression of obscene mockery which artificial flowers give us.”

— John Updike

I have no real distaste for artificial flowers; in fact, if I glance toward my top shelf, I see the ones that lay across our wedding cake, looking exactly the same as they did on the day we were married.  Their mauve color fits nicely in the antique carnival glass vase that belonged to Mark’s grandmother.  I love to look at them, because they remind me of the day we committed to each other and they remind me of Grandma, whose spirit lives on in our memories.

I suppose that’s how I feel about artificial flowers — they are memories of frozen moments in time that still look exactly the same after so many years.  They are nice to have when they’re tucked in a special place on my shelf and in my heart.  Without the memory attached, my artificial flowers would have no lasting appeal.

Now I turn my thoughts to real flowers, the kind that grow for a season, fill us with their beauty, and then decay and die.  Updike was right when he says they are both temporary and sad.  They teach us the value of the moment.  As I walked through the park this morning, I saw buds everywhere I looked.  Spring is such an exciting time, because the world changes from day to day, from hour to hour, even from minute to minute.  I love the buds because they remind me of potential — of something special and new that excites me as I anticipate the day they will open and reveal their full splendor.  I will love the flowers that burst from the buds, because they will fill my day with color and fragrance that bring joy to the world.  I will love the spent flowers as they relinquish their moment so that the plants can use their energy for growth and renewal that will bring us more flowers in coming years.

Maybe when Updike called artificial flowers an “obscene mockery,” he was touching on the way that being stuck in one moment can deprive us of living fully.  If there is something blocking our path so that we miss the new moments that lie ahead, any beauty it might hold could be seen as a mockery compared to being fully alive.

Then I thought about letting go.  Suppose I love the buds of today so much that I want to hold them forever.  Suppose that when nature moves on to the blooming flower, my heart is still full of buds and allows no room for the momentary beauty that soon will be gone.  I thought about the way that we clutter our hearts with past experiences that keep us frozen in a moment that should exist only in memory.  I pictured myself walking through life and gathering each armload of flowers that came my way, but never feeling free to lay them down and return them to the Earth when their time was done.  My arms would soon grow tired and full; and there would be no room left for the beauty of the coming moment.

The Earth teaches us how to live our lives, about cycles and seasons and holding tight and letting go.  May I come to each new moment unencumbered and with my arms wide open.  May I embrace each moment and revel in its beauty.  May I have the wisdom to let go and the faith to know that the ever-changing experience of living will bring another beautiful armload of life as soon as I am willing to accept it.