Seeds of change
Updated: Jun 2
A couple of months ago my husband and I decided to plant a garden. It was something I'd wanted to do for a while and seemed like a great idea, given the food shortages at the time due to Covid-19. My husband got a tiller, worked up the ground, and then got the plants and seeds.
Despite the fact that I grew up on a farm, I had never planted a garden. He took care of the plants, but when it came time for the seeds he enlisted my help and the help of our daughter.
We were actually pretty excited. We kept making jokes about how we were so cool and health conscious as we sorted out our pretty little envelopes of organic seeds. We put on gardening gloves and brought out our blue tooth speaker so we could play music and really get our vibes going.
After carefully reading the instructions we opened the seed packets and were ready to get this thing going! To say I was shocked upon seeing the seeds would be an understatement. They were the tiniest things I'd ever seen. How in the hell were we supposed to take one seed at a time and plant them 3-4 inches apart?
Since my husband has more knowledge and experience with gardens, and since my daughter and I had been so obnoxious about our abilities as earth loving green goddesses I just smiled and exclaimed "Awesome! Let's do this!".
The first couple of rows I took great care with my spacing and did the best I could to only plant one seed at a time and when I say they were tiny, I'm talking almost invisible tiny. Attempting to do this was painstakingly tedious. Nonetheless I soldiered on and kept encouraging my daughter along the way.
Meanwhile my husband (who had so graciously offered to take care of the plants if we did the seeds, and now I knew why) was standing to the side barking orders and asking me if I was sure the seeds were the correct amount of inches apart.
That was my tipping point! I let him know that I was on to him and that this was nearly impossible and if he thought he could do a better job to have at it!
By row 4 or 5 my lower back hurt, my knees hurt, and my hands were cramping from trying not to drop the seeds. The idealistic vision I had of planting this garden was very different from what I was experiencing.
My daughter and I made a deal that we would just sort of sprinkle the rest of the seeds and hope for the best.
I cannot you tell the glorious relief I felt as we covered over the last row of seeds with dirt, but there was also a part of me that felt guilty.
What if the plants don't grow very well, or at all and all of this work was for nothing because of my impatience and lack of diligence?
All we could do was water the garden and wait.
I am happy to report that the garden is currently thriving and we have more spinach, kale, and lettuce varieties than we know what to do with.
Yesterday when I was in the garden harvesting kale, I had an epiphany.
The garden is a lot like my life. I am always looking for ways to grow and learn. I am constantly reading new books, listening to podcasts, trying new meditations and journaling my thoughts and dreams.
I tend to get very excited about a new routine I plan to implement into my self help tool box. I get a new notebook and pen and set my intention with "said" new routine, and I have to say that for the most part I stick to it, but there are days when it feels tedious and mundane.
I am tempted to, and I do rush through these moments of self reflection, and in doing so, wonder if I'm defeating the purpose. Just like when I was planting the seeds and became tired and bored and careless. Are my efforts in my personal growth in vain because I'm treating it like a to do list?
I do not think so.
Every time I go out to the garden I am reminded how resilient those tiny seeds were.
To look at them it was hard to imagine that anything would come from them and not to mention the careless way most were planted.
I think the same is true for myself and the same is true for you. Ultimately there is no perfect way to do this thing we call personal growth.
It takes time and we rarely see the fruits of our efforts immediately.
Now when I am tempted to be impatient with myself, I remember those seeds.
I picture my body as a garden and every small act of self love and growth is me planting something new that will indeed grow into a visible plant.
Impatience and criticism have no place in my garden. Only patience, love, and care and the faith that when the time is right, the new parts of me will emerge from the soil of my soul.
Love to you all......