And the secret garden bloomed and bloomed and every morning revealed new miracles.
In the robin’s nest there were Eggs and the robin’s mate sat upon them keeping them warm with her feathery little breast and careful wings.
….in the garden there was nothing which was not quite like themselves—
nothing which did not understand the wonderfulness of what was happening to them—
the immense, tender, terrible, heart-breaking beauty and solemnity of Eggs.
If there had been one person in that garden who had not known through all his or her innermost being
that if an Egg were taken away or hurt the whole world would whirl round and crash through space and come to an end—
if there had been even one who did not feel it and act accordingly there could have been no happiness even in that golden springtime air.
But they all knew it and felt it and the robin and his mate knew they knew it.
~Frances Hodgson Burnett from The Secret Garden
Some say you’re lucky
If nothing shatters it.
But then you wouldn’t
Understand poems or songs.
You’d never know
Beauty comes from loss.
It’s deep inside every person:
A tear tinier
Than a pearl or thorn.
It’s one of the places
Where the beloved is born.
We all start out an egg pierced,
broken in order to become whole…
– each tiny part of the least of us –
– whether brain, heart, lungs or liver –
even if unwanted or discarded or taken away.
The act of creation of something so sacred
is immense, tender, terrible, beautiful, heart-breaking,
and so very solemn.
The act of hurting this one tiny part of creation
hurts the whole world;
we risk whirling round and crashing through space
and coming to an end.
If there is even one who does not feel it and act accordingly,
there can be no happiness.
But they all knew it and felt it and they knew they knew it.
And what is born broken is beloved.