Felt Only When Not Seen
A morning walk, a jumping cholla, and what appears when we slow enough to see.
On my morning walk, one I’ve taken regularly for at least two years, a cholla cactus, often called a jumping cactus, caught my attention. It is a plant that many pass by without a second glance.
Brown and green, thorned, rooted in a woody base, it bears little resemblance to the gardens and trees I grew up with in Michigan, or to the English gardens I’ve known through books and films. Those places seem shaped for comfort and lingering. The desert is rarely approached that way.
Standing there with the cholla, I found myself asking, where have you been? I’ve walked this path countless times, and only now am I seeing you. As I often do, I looked closer. Insects moved among the spines, running over one another as they climbed up and down. A lizard crossed a decaying cactus arm. Stones rested where they had settled, unmoved, if ever, for who knows how long. Lost in thought, it would have been easy to get needled.
With my attention on the desert rather than my thoughts, the poem began.
You,
who can’t ask
for love
but makes space
for beetles, lizards,
and shared sky
You, thorn-wrapped
in your stillness,
felt only
by those who do not see
You are
not the wound.
Only
the lesson.
Lynne Marie — This captures what the desert teaches: beauty isn’t always immediate, but revealed in stillness and attention. The lesson of the cholla feels like a metaphor for so much of the human experience.
By the way, thank you for liking my comment on David Whyte’s The Sea in You. I had written: “David — I’ve restacked The Sea in You as a ‘Tide Challenge’ for everyday health: morning walks as rising tides, meals as cool waves on skin, night resets on the shore of joy. Intent: reach beyond poetry lovers to help more people build better lives through it.”
I recently wrote a column on personal development through poetry, highlighting David’s work. I’ve been posting again on Substack after a six‑month break, sharing reflections and restacks from writers whose ideas help us live more intentionally.
You can browse my archive here: swlion26.substack.com/archive.
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