A Story Of Ginkgos

Just yesterday I went for a walk through our town. In a Bilbo Baggins manner I did not really pay attention, where my feet were carrying me, so I ended up in a place where the street is planted with ginkgos, one of them carrying fruits. This reminded me of an incident, which happened last autumn:

Just a year ago I had been in the same street on an important mission: I had wanted to get ginkgo seeds to grow my own tree.

It is rare to find a ginkgo carrying fertile seeds since they are monoecious – which means there are female and male trees. Female ones are somehow pretty hard to find, so I had been more than joyous to be their when this one was ready to be harvested. My idea was getting some of them home with me to reap the seeds in order to plant new trees next spring.

It turned out that getting to the precious seeds was not that of an easy task as it might sound…

First, no matter how nice the trees look…Their fruits have such a disgusting smell, words cannot describe! Imagine mixing the odour of overripe fruits, mould and rotten animal and you will at least get a taste of that. So, ok, somehow I had survived the smell by holding my breath while carrying the fruits home…

Then came the next challenge: The flesh of the fruits was poisonous on the skin when in contact with air! So, what to do?

Imagine now the following scenario: me holding my breath, trying to cut of the flesh under cold running water to get to the seeds. And moreover it was an arduous task since the flash can be very hard…

After not having cut and poisoned myself, and after getting some fresh air into my kitchen for about half an hour, the task was done and I had my reward. Nice, clean (and non-toxic!) seeds, waiting to be planted in the spring…

The story of the ginkgo seeds is a perfect analogy for me for the transformation I am going through this year…

Although it did not look like that in the first place, lot of that stuff, which I was dealing with inside of my turned out to be extremely smelly: old fears, traumas, all the false beliefs I had, all the shame and blame I was carrying around with me. I had managed to keep them far away from me so that I would not really bother, but by that I was also not really able to smell how rotten they were and how they continued to make ME rot even more.

Slice by slice I peeled off every layer of the falseness and heaviness through my spiritual practice. My yoga teacher training, which worked with embodiment techniques, various healing sessions by amazing healers and my continuous meditation practice guided me deeper and deeper into the poisonous flesh of the moulding things inside of me. 

Looking back, it was exactly the same thing I was doing with the ginkgo seeds. I wanted to reach to the core. The pure and undamaged essence. Pure being, pure potential, me being a seed of my own. And yes, the way to that was leading me through foul flesh, toxic abysses of my own outgrown identity and into deep unknown territory.

Yes, it is hard and transformation is never just daisies and roses. The moments, when one layer is peeled off, will give you relief. But usually just for short until you stumble into the next. And it is of no use to stay in that toxicity of your old self, no matter how tired you are.

I am writing all of that because I am going that path to my inner core like many great and brave people before me, and like many right now with me. I am sharing this story, this analogy, with you as a small beacon of light to not give up, to dive even deeper into the wasteland of  “You”. And yes, it is arduous and somehow it seems never-ending or even pointless.

But it’s not! Because in the end, bit by bit, you WILL definitely reap the fruits of your work, of all hardships, and your seed will grow into something new. Something cleansed and pure, fulfilling it’s purpose… just like the gingko trees, which are now growing on my balcony…

❤ M

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