During my drive to work one day, I was marvelling at the beauty of the day. Barely a cloud in the sky; it was warm and glorious—not yet too hot. The perfect day, made to order.
When I arrived, I parked my car, got out, and began walking toward the building. On the boulevard, a cheerful display of dandelions waved gaily above the grass. I smiled, and then something unexpected popped into my mind. Joy welled up inside me as the playful thought came: “I love you. Thank you for brightening my day.”
I recently reread Zero Limits and have been bringing the practice of ho’oponopono back into my life. A memory popped into my mind—a field of dandelions where my sisters and I played. Often, we gathered handfuls of the blossoms for Mom. As she put them in water, she would tell us how beautiful they were.
I also remembered the feel of cool water from the hose washing muddy fingers—fingers that had just finished decorating mud pies with bright yellow heads.
And then, “I’m sorry. Please forgive me,” also flooded my mind—along with the memory of dragging the weed bar across the lawn with the intent to kill what I was perceiving as just a weed. A weed I thought I needed to control and get rid of.
I could feel sadness for misunderstanding the important role dandelions have played in my life.
This cheerful flower brought so much joy to my childhood. As I’ve grown older, I’ve come to see just how valuable it truly is. Dandelions provide the first food for bees in the spring—those same bees I depend on to pollinate my garden and help sustain our food supply.
In recent years, dandelion coffee has become one of my comfort drinks, gently supporting my liver and overall health.
I’ve come to understand why this hardy plant was brought by the English to the Americas. Its uses are diverse—ranging from cakes and ice cream to salads and wine.
The emotion that rose within me, stirred by the delightful dance of dandelions in the breeze, was unexpected. The gentle whisper of “I love you. Thank you,” came from somewhere deep within—a recollection of joy, play, and light.
It came with an invitation.
An invitation to forgive myself.
“I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”
A moment of healing unfolded as I discovered forgiveness for the part of myself who only wanted a beautiful lawn and didn’t understand the cost.
My return to the practice of ho’oponopono has been full of unexpected surprises. Suddenly, the dancing flowers were not just weeds, but an invitation to greater awareness and knowing.
It was never truly about the dandelions.
“I’m sorry. Please forgive me,” my heart whispered—not just to the plants, but to the playful child who made mud pies decorated with gold, to the bees who depend on those blooms, to the resilient parts of myself I once tried to erase.
Self Reflection
- How could embracing my inner playfulness and lightness—like a child creating with dandelions—change the way I relate to myself?
- What becomes possible when joy is allowed to lead the way?
