While tidying up my asparagus fern, one of the tiny thorns on the stem stuck in my thumb. Such a small little prick--that caused my thumb to swell and throb for two days.
One of the Buddha's nuns wrote a poem about a thorn that is hard to see.
My thorn, indeed, has been removed! Buried in the heart, so hard to see. That grief which had overcome me — Grief for my son — has been dispelled.
When i look at any of my triggers, i find a little or big thorn of a belief driving my reaction. Sometimes those thorns are so tiny and so hard to see. Sometimes it takes weeks to find one of them.
Although the nun was talking about the death of her baby son, we might consider the thorns of not being able to visit children and grandchildren. We call it love. And a thorn is hiding in that love. Can you see it?