The One Who Blossoms First

— A quiet code on rhythm, discernment, and blooming in silence

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A morning without direction

I hadn't planned anything specific this morning. There were no big thoughts about what to create, no images I wanted to capture. But something within me wanted out — to move the body, to breathe, to feel into the day.

From the hallway, I saw it, as I did last spring. The beech. The same tree, perhaps a hundred meters into the forest. The one that always blossoms first, a little ahead of the others.

I went there. Wanted to meet it again. And there it stood. Just as still and self-assured as in previous years. Already softly unfurled. No need to take up space. Nothing asking to be seen. It just happens. Because it's time.
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Blooming in one's own rhythm

I stood there for a while, simply watching and listening. There is something special in how that tree does it every year — blooming first, quietly and assuredly.

It's not making a statement. There's no desire to get ahead. It just happens. Because it's ready.

And I recognized something in that. How often I have waited for others before allowing myself to step forward. Waiting to be invited, understood, affirmed. But maybe it doesn't always have to follow someone else's rhythm.

There is something very pure in blooming when it is time — even if no one else does so at the same time.
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Releasing what I've held back

There have been many moments in life when I've held back. When I've felt something strongly but still waited, adjusted, gone quiet. Not because I didn't know what I wanted — but because I was afraid it would be too early, too much, or land wrong.

But out there, with the beech, something within me began to soften. A quiet realization that I no longer need to wait for others' pace to follow my own. That I may step forward when it feels true — even if no one else is there yet.

And maybe that’s where something begins to shift now. In the body. In life. A movement away from compromises I no longer wish to carry.
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Standing in one's longing

It is only when I begin to release the compromises that I see them clearly. How I have sometimes carried my longing as something to hide — as if it could only exist if someone else could meet it.

But longing needs no confirmation to be real. It is simply an expression of who I am, right now.

And as I stood there with the beech, it suddenly felt clear. There is nothing to hide. Nothing that needs explanation. Longing is allowed to exist — even if no one else carries it with me.
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A field of its own in a greater world

I realized that it's not just the surrounding conditions that make this beech blossom first. It's not only about light, wind, warmth, or soil — but the field it itself is.

In some way, it has created its own microclimate. From within. An inner point of balance, a coding, a refined sensitivity that lets it know: now it’s time.

And I recognize myself in that. Not in being first for the sake of it, but in carrying my own inner field that sometimes responds to impulses before the world around even notices a shift.

To live like that is to follow one’s own frequency, even when the rhythm around pulses at a different level. It's not always easy. But it is true.

And perhaps that’s why I was drawn to the beech today. Not because it stood out. But because it reminded me that I too may unfurl — when the timing is right within me.
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A quiet invitation

We all carry our own fields. Some of us have learned to first attune to the surroundings, to wait until someone else leads the way. Others have had to blossom early — because there was no other choice.

But maybe it's not about comparing rhythms, but about learning to recognize our own. To listen for what wants to unfold within us — not because the calendar says so, but because something inside whispers: now.

When we listen to that, something can shift. Not always on the outside — but within. A certainty. A quiet clarity. That we are allowed to bloom when it is our time. That we don’t need to hold back. That we may unfurl — even if no one else does just yet.
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From Moment´s Eternity

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The tree you see here – the beech that always blooms first – is also featured in my photo book Moment´s Eternity.

Its spring greenery is captured alongside a text about trust – the kind of trust the pioneer carries.

If you’d like to read more or purchase the book, you’ll find it here. It’s also available for purchase directly at my clinic if you live nearby.

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