Knifing Through Frozen Ground: What crocuses teach me about hard conversations, integrity, and voice

^{An Unexpected Sign of Spring}

A bit of sun peeped out earlier this week. Although the yard was still soggy and muddy as our blanket of snow melted, I donned my coat and boots and headed outside to enjoy some overdue sunshine and begin clearing the yard of fallen leaves, sticks, and limbs—victims of winter winds.

As I bent over to add one more branch to my full arms, a flash of yellow caught my eye. There it was, one of the very first signs of spring: one lovely and lonely crocus peeking out with an optimism of warmer weather and imminent springtime.

This first spring flower took my breath away. Small but mighty. Daring to emerge well before consistently sunny days and warmer temperatures. Showing up even though there will often still be snow and many freezing nights. Poking through hard, frozen earth when conditions are still harsh and inhospitable.

The Prayer That Always Finds Me

I was thrilled to see this first crocus and its heralding of the spring to come. And without fail, it reminded me of one of my favorite prayers:

Crocus Prayer by Jo Sorley

It takes courage to be crocus-minded, God. I'd rather wait until June like wise roses. When the hazards of winter are safely behind and, as expected, everything's ready for roses. But crocuses? Highly irregular.

Knifing up through hard-frozen ground and snow sticking their necks out because they believe in Spring and have something personal and emphatic to say about it.

God, I am by nature rose-minded. Even when I have studied the situation here and Know that there are wrongs that need righting Affirmations that need starting and knowing also that my speaking out may offend - - For it rocks the boat -- Well, I'd rather wait until June. Maybe later things will work themselves out and we won't have to make an issue of it.

God, forgive

Wrongs don't work themselves out; injustices And inequities and hurts don't just dissolve. Somebody has to stick his or her neck out --somebody who cares enough to think through and work through hard ground, because he or she believes and has something personal And emphatic to say about it.

Me, God? Crocus-Minded??

Could it be that there are things that need to be said.

And you want me to say them? I pray for courage.

Amen

When I Have Been Crocus-Minded

This poem never fails to prompt reflection on the times I was crocus-minded, when:

• I found the courage to voice an alternative opinion

• I raised an issue the team was struggling with but not addressing except in hallway and after-hours conversations

• I brought forward my sense of discomfort, injustice, or unfairness, even as I was in the  minority

• I broached a tough but necessary conversation with a loved one

When I Stayed Silent

Yet, in all honesty, it also causes me to think of the times I failed to be crocus-minded, when:

• I looked the other way

• I rationalized that my voice didn’t matter

• I waited for someone else to take the lead

• I lacked the courage to voice a different point of view

The Paradox of Speaking Up

A paradox emerges when I compare these two paths.

Taking action, in most cases, allowed others who felt the same to own their voices. It let light into places that had been dark. It created insight followed by action—not always perfectly, but almost always better than dodging the tough issue.

Contrary to my fears, relationships rarely fractured; more often they deepened. When I spoke with clarity and conviction, I was listened to rather than dismissed. And frequently, my honesty allowed others to share their deeper thoughts, adding nuance and expanding my own understanding.

Integrity and Its Cost

When I am thoughtfully crocus-minded, my fears are often overstated, the outcomes generally positive, and my sense of integrity reinforced. The short term can be scary, but the long-term results are well worth the courage it takes to honor both myself and others.

Conversely, when I fail to muster that courage, situations tend to worsen. I retreat into silence, frustration, and bitterness. Wrongs do not get righted. And I am left with regret and the lingering sense of not being in integrity with my higher self.

Tough and Tender

Like crocuses, this is the art of being both tough and tender. They knife through hard ground, daring to bring color after a dark, cold season—for a brief two to three weeks—and then return underground, where even more magic happens.

That brief flowering provides the sunlight and nutrients needed to multiply. Crocuses are prolific naturalizers. Plant a dozen in the fall and you will be rewarded with a small patch in late winter. The original corm (not a bulb) shrivels and is replaced by one to five new corms underground. The following year, more appear. A dozen becomes two dozen, two dozen becomes four—continuing to multiply and spread.

I believe the same thing happens when we own our voices with kindness, clarity, and concern. One act of being crocus-minded shines light on a situation—often helping, if not healing it. As that conversation fades, our confidence grows. We become more willing to speak truth, to have the tough conversations, to name what is real. And our courage invites others to do the same. The conversations grow and multiply.

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How to Be Crocus-Minded

Tips for Owning Your Authentic Voice

1. Be clear about your purpose before you speak

Ask yourself: What is the real issue? What outcome do I hope for?

Speak to improve, not to vent, win, or punish and speak from a spirit of working toward a better situation

2. Check your timing and setting

Hard conversations need privacy, enough time, and emotional steadiness. Avoid having a crocus conversation when either person is rushed, tired, or already escalated.

3. Lead with care and respect

Start by affirming the relationship to lower defensiveness and claim your intent.

• “I value working with you…”

• “This relationship matters to me…”

4. Speak from your own experience

Use “I” statements instead of accusations or attributing bad intent on the other.

• “I’ve been feeling concerned about…”

• “I noticed…”

5. Name the issue gently but directly

Being crocus-minded means not circling endlessly. Say the hard thing clearly and kindly.

Avoid hinting, generalizing (“always,” “never”), or bringing up multiple grievances at once

6. Stay curious, not certain

After you share, invite their perspective. Curiosity turns confrontation into conversation.

• “How does this look from your side?”

• “What am I missing?”

7. Listen to understand, not to reload. People soften when they feel heard.

Resist planning your rebuttal. Instead, reflect back what you hear.

8. Regulate your emotions in real time.

Courage is not the absence of emotion—it is staying grounded within it. If things get heated, slow your breathing, pause and suggest a short break if needed.

9. Focus on the shared future

Shift from problem → possibility. Forward movement builds hope.

• “What would better look like for both of us?”

• “What’s one step we could try?”

10. Accept that discomfort is part of growth.

Like the crocus pushing through frozen ground, these conversations may feel awkward, risky, or imperfect. Your intention matters more than polish.

11. Release the need to control the outcome.

Your responsibility is to show up with integrity, not to guarantee agreement. You can be kind and still be clear.

12. Follow up as hard conversations are rarely one-and-done.

Humble, Not Showy

The crocus is humble, not showy like zinnias or dahlias. It multiplies, but is never invasive.

Being crocus-minded does not mean being loud, forceful, or fearless.

It means being rooted in care, willing to emerge before conditions are perfect,

and trusting that small, honest conversations—like early blooms—

have the power to multiply and transform the landscape around us.

A Final Fun Fact

The crocus is common, easy to grow, and requires very little maintenance. Yet from the fleeting bloom of Crocus sativus comes one of the most expensive and coveted spices in the world: saffron. It takes about 150 flowers to produce a single gram of culinary-grade saffron, which sells for $15–$30 per gram.

Which feels like a fitting ending to being crocus-minded:

Sometimes the smallest and humblest acts become the most valuable.

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