Rising from the ashes: The dandelion has my smile

 I was reading 'Peace is in Every Step' by Thich Nhat Hanh this week, and these lines resonated so deeply with me:

‘I have lost my smile, but don’t worry. The dandelion has it.’ If you have lost your smile and yet are still capable of seeing that a dandelion is keeping it for you, the situation is not too bad. You still have enough mindfulness to see that the smile is there. You only need to breathe consciously one or two times and you will recover your smile. The dandelion is one member of your community of friends. It is there, quite faithful, keeping your smile for you. In fact, everything around you is keeping your smile for you.

Oftentimes, when we lose our smiles, we are unable to see it anywhere else either. We are so deeply immersed in our grief and sorrow that nothing permeates through this. My workplace is a veritable forest, and at the nadir of my depression, I decided to go for long walks every day. Walking had always helped me, and surely walking in this beautiful place would bring me some hope and light. And so, every day after lunch I stepped out for a walk. I walked, but I never paid attention to the beauty around me. My mind was elsewhere, trapped in a dark place devoid of any green. But on one such walk, something beautiful happened, and it brought me out of this trance. I saw a litter of puppies, barely a week old, cuddled in the grass, bathing in the afternoon sunlight. I stopped and stared at them, and I was greeted by half-open eyes and wagging tails. 

This sight warmed my heart. I was still far away from my smile, but the ice around my heart thawed. In my head, this became the "puppy spot". I looked forward to seeing them every day, and I always walked to that point. They were so full of life - running, napping, playing, just being. Over two months, I watched them grow. I was unable to smile, but I still saw my smile in them, and being able to see that brought me a deep sense of peace. This week, I saw a second litter of puppies, and I smiled at their wagging tails and innocent eyes.

Thanks to Hanh, of late, I also paid attention to the flowers and the trees on my walk. I felt a sense of kinship and oneness with them. I marveled at their beauty, wondering how I had walked on the same path all these months, never once noticing them or smiling at them. I thanked them for holding on to my smile for so long. Sometimes, all we need is that. It does not matter if we cannot smile. As long as we can see that someone or something is holding onto our smiles, we can find the hope to continue. Our smiles will once again find their way back to us. Dear Reader, I hope that in your loneliest moment, you can find some solidarity in this world. As Hanh says, I wish you peace in every step.