🌸 The Bloom That Closed Three Ways: Collapse, Resurrection, Bow

Reverend Gin Bishop
Sep 13
4 min read

There are flowers that follow rules. And then there are flowers that break them, just to preach.

Moonflowers are supposed to bloom for one night. They unfurl in the evening, glowing like lanterns in the dark, perfuming the air with a sweetness that smells almost playful — like Fruit Loops and nectar. By morning, they close, their work complete. That’s the contract.

But under the Black Moon, one of my moonflowers refused the rule. She bloomed two nights in a row. A Two-Night Bloom.

And then, she gave me a lesson that unraveled every vow I’d been holding too tightly.

The Collapse

On the second morning, I noticed one pleat folding, as if she was readying to close. I leaned down, touched her soft white petals. Just a whisper of contact. My intention wasn’t harm. It was longing. “Stay open,” I whispered. “Don’t go yet.”

Fifteen minutes later, when I returned from walking Bear, she had collapsed.

Not in the dignified pleats of her sisters. Not folded like a curtain drawing shut. She hung limp, petals flopped like dough, stem bent under the weight. A tired, messy, undignified collapse.

And I felt grief. Shame. Guilt. As if my desire to hold her had broken her. As if collapse was failure.

But collapse wasn’t the end of the story.

The Resurrection

That night, under darkness, I checked again.

And she was standing. Upright. Pleating herself closed. Firm again.

She had resurrected.

What looked like failure was only physiology. She had pendulated — collapsed under overwhelm, reorganized in silence, and risen again.

And I realized: resurrection is always written into the script. We collapse, yes. But then we rise. It’s not a miracle; it’s nature.

The Bow

By dawn, when the sun touched her, she had sealed. Upright, pleated, dignified.

The final bow.

Not collapse. Not resurrection. Completion. The “amen” of her sermon.

The bow is how a flower closes when she knows her offering is done. Upright. Witnessed by sun. Dignity intact.

And in that moment, I understood: endings come in stages. Collapse, resurrection, bow.

The Dharma of the Bloom

The bloom taught me the Dharma of endings in three movements:

Collapse — Messy, awkward, painful. Not failure, but physiology. The body saying, enough.
Resurrection — Quiet, midnight, unhurried. The form remembered. The spirit reorganized. The spine straightened.
The Bow — Upright, sealed, dignified. The close that blesses the community and makes room for what’s next.

This is the arc of every ending: lives, jobs, vows, identities. We collapse, we rise, we bow.

Breaking the Vows

The bloom broke me open because she showed me which vows needed to be released:

The Atlas Reflex: the vow to hold everything open forever. Broken. Collapse is allowed.
The Poverty Vow: the lie that beauty or grace is scarce. Broken. Resurrection is abundant.
The Invisibility Vow: the belief that if no one sees me, it doesn’t matter. Broken. The bloom was celebrated even if only I witnessed it.

The flower preached: You don’t need to be witnessed to be celebrated. You are the celebration.

Spiritual Layers

Scripture echoed in petals:

Ecclesiastes 3: “To everything there is a season.” Collapse, rise, bow.
Rumi: “Accept the changing seasons of your heart.” Even collapse is seasonal.
Tao Te Ching: “Every day something is dropped.” Do not pry open what is closing.

Philosophy whispered in pleats: Aristotle’s telos — the fulfillment of purpose. The bloom fulfilled hers not in endless openness, but in dignified closure.

Cosmology mirrored it in stars: Supernovas collapse, rise into neutron stars, then bow into black holes or white dwarfs. The cosmos itself ends in three ways.

Parapsychology danced around it: The bloom wasn’t alone. Light anomalies flashed in the trees. Coyotes howled at the back fence. The Watcher in the Woods moved unseen. The land sang in chorus: we witness the ending too.

Integration for Your Life

The bloom’s sermon is yours, too.

If you are in collapse, hear this: you are not failing. You are resetting. You are softening for resurrection.

If you are in resurrection, hear this: breathe. Let the midnight reorganize you. Your form is returning.

If you are in the bow, hear this: close with dignity. Bless the ending. Seal it so something else can bloom.

Try this ritual:

Name the Ending. Whisper it aloud.
Allow the Collapse. Speak the messy truth. Admit the flop.
Invite Resurrection. Take three slow breaths. Let your spine lengthen. Feel structure return.
Seal the Bow. Place a hand on your heart. Say: “I close with dignity.”
Taste Sweetness. Anchor joy into the ending. Even collapse deserves sweetness.

Closing

The Carrier Bloom defied her contract to preach to me. She stayed open two nights. Collapsed when I clung. Resurrected when I let go. Bowed when the time was right.

She was scripture written in silk and perfume.

And this is her gospel: