To the Sower: Just keep sowing

A sower went out to sow: some seeds fell on the road, some on stony ground, some among thorns and tares, and some fell on the good soil and it produced good fruit: it bore sixty per measure and a hundred and twenty per measure. The sower fails more than he succeeds. He loses the majority of his precious seeds. But his returns are measured by a single sprout that grows, and not by the number of seeds he throws.

He sows and meets failure. He reaps it again, and again after that, and he never need worry. A spark gets a fire going. A seed gets a flower growing. The sower is no speculator. He’s no opportunist. His dealings are with destiny. His fortunes are certain.

The Earth shows over and over that she always keeps rich places prepared for a sower of seeds. Just keep sowing and you’ll find them. Good places are plentiful, but rare, hidden as they are between roads, stones, briers, and tares.

There are immeasurable returns for one seed that finds it’s place. The Earth has the means. She provides for the sower beyond his losses. He has a part on this stage in her unwinding play, himself once a seed and heir to good ground. For reasons beyond his choosing, with means beyond his own doing, he emerged from the depths; he came up from the ground. She makes and sustains him for reasons of her own. Just keep sowing, she says. She makes no bargains and holds no debts. She comes as she is, a Mother of substance and the rewarder of industry. Just keep sowing, she says. There’s a place here for you.