In nature, everything comes in its own time. It is common for plants to bloom in the spring, and then leaf out, although some produce leaves first, and then flowers. But there are even some plants that completely reverse the sequence. The autumn crocus, for example, sometimes called ‘son-before-the-father,’ produces its leaves in the spring, and only after they have withered through the summer and disappeared, does the bulb send up flowers where there seems to be no plant at all.

We could keep this lesson in mind when reading the recently posted text by Hazrat Inayat Khan on the way of the wise in the world. The text begins by outlining the fundamental, unflattering weakness of humans, that each and every one of us wants to be the one and only king, controlling at our whim not only everyone in our environment but also all events and conditions, up to and including the weather. Against this background, Hazrat Inayat then describes the way in which the wise find harmony in the world, either through the path of the saint, who bears all and says nothing, or the master, who begins by conquering himself and continues conquering until all of nature bows before his impulse.

Looking at ourselves in the mirror, we might think, “Well, using a lot of imagination maybe I see a few traces of sacrifice – or a smudge or two of effort toward mastery – but to be honest, I’m neither a saint nor a master, so how can I be in harmony with the world?” But as Hazrat Inayat tells us, what is most important is our sincerity. Our genuine effort is what really counts, for us and for the world around us, because it is sincerity that pulls itself together and takes the first, courageous step of the thousand mile journey.

And if, to our realistic gaze, we don’t look like either a master or a saint, it doesn’t matter. We can always take comfort in the hope that, like the autumn crocus, we might be designed by the Hand of Providence to be late bloomers.