No matter what you do, they come up anyway. Those bits of green along the sides of roads, in cracks of the sidewalk or parking lots and even on the expressway will inevitably appear.  Once the newness of the asphalt or the scoured earth has been softened by rain and time, all bets are off.  The Real World always has the last say--pushing, wrangling, determined at whatever the cost to be.  And because we are part of that Real World, we have that same aliveness inside us too. The increase in rainfall this spring has brought about bumper crops of wildflowers everywhere. Driving into town I see their bright faces at desolate intersections, around gas stations, creeping into the sterile minimalism of corporate landscaping.  'Look!' they seem to say. 'Life is messy, and uncontrollable and beautiful all at the same time.  Nothing can hold back forever what wants to be born.' Perhaps that is something to remember when we get restless.  What inside of us is struggling to push up through our carefully cultivated lives?  What part of us have we dismissed as a weed because we believed it wouldn't make us rich, wasn't aligned with what we were taught or just sank under the hot tar pressure to be like everyone else? Take heart!  See all these weeds? Let them remind you, all that wild wonderfulness inside of you, no matter how paved over it has been, is still there waiting for a crack....

For whatever is let go                                        where no preparation
there's a taker.                                                   was made for it,
The living discovers itself                                    where its only privilege
                                                                          is to live if it can.

        Wendall Berry, excerpt from  "May Sonnet"

and later today I came across (as often happens) these lovely lines Rilke:

I believe in all that has never yet been spoken.
I want to free what waits within me
so that what no one has dared to wish for
may for once spring clear
without my contriving.

The Book of Hours, trans. in  "A Year with Rilke" by Joanna Macy, Anita Barrows