Let the Apple ripen on the branch beyond your need to take it down.
(David Whyte)
One of our all time faves, Lisa Congdon illustrated and posted this quote from a David Whyte poem on Instagram today.
Years ago, Kuki flagged her as someone to look out for. She started following her and buying her books and we took her online Creative Bug classes. All this to say that Lisa is a huge inspiration to us. She is a mostly self taught artist who is not only brilliant, talented and prolific, but has grit and perseverance too.
Yes! her work is incredible but her tenacity and drive are equally impressive.
We learn so much from the artists, poets, influencers and change makers in our midst. We are grateful that we can make art to contribute to the world even in the most insignificant ways.
As we continue to evolve on this book publishing journey we are deepening our understanding on waiting, ripening, patience and harvest.
Which is why this quote struck us today.
Let the Apple ripen on the branch beyond your need to take it down.
On this cold late Winter day, our fruit is still on the vine and we are savouring the sweet spot of now.
Where do you see the fruit ripening in your life? And do you have a need to take it down? What would happen if you waited?
WINTER APPLE By David Whyte
Let the apple ripen
on the branch
beyond your need
to take it down.
Let the coolness
of autumn
and the breathing,
blowing wind
test its adherence
to endurance,
let the others fall.
Wait longer
than you would,
go against yourself,
find the pale nobility
of quiet that ripening
demands…
watch with patience
as the silhouette emerges
and the leaves fall;
see it become
a solitary roundness
against a greying sky,
let winter come
and the first
frost threaten,
and then wake
one morning
to see the breath
of winter
has haloed
its redness
with light.
So that a full
two months
after you
should have
taken the apple
down
you hold it in
your closed hand
at last and bite
into the cool
sweetness
spread evenly
through every
single atom
of a pale
and yielding
structure.
So that you taste
on that cold,
grey day,
not only
the after reward
of a patience
remembered,
not only
the summer
sunlight
of a postponed
perfection,
but the sweet
inward stillness
of the wait itself.