I have a theory about folks and their gardens. No matter how much earth we have to work with, from grassy lawns to potted plants, how we tend it relates to how we tend to many, if not most aspects of life.
Gardening requires trust, patience, a willingness to get dirty. We can’t be attached, some things will thrive others will wither. Plants won’t grow in a particular spot just because we put it there; they have needs too. Some like sun, some shade, some like a lot of water, some sandy soil.
There are the obvious seasons in a garden, which I wish our culture would pay more attention to. The dormant winter time is just as important as the fruits of summer. Rest and nourishment in equal proportion to boldness and sustenance.
We need to weed the garden more intently at some times of the year, but also mostly all year long. We pull out the plants we don’t want in the garden, for various reasons, but mainly because we want a certain look or feel to our spaces. Pulling out undesired “weeds” makes room for what we want. Just like pulling out old ideas from our minds is essential to make room for new thoughts to spread out and grow roots. There just isn’t room for everything. An overgrown crowded garden hides the gems, they get lost in the weeds.
I’m kind of a cheap gardener. I don’t really like to buy anything at full price, and I enjoy rescuing half-dead discount plants and propagating my own. This means my garden is always in a state of change. I have yet to reach a state of feeling that it is “finished.” There are plants growing in one area that I will divide and move, and potted plants in a shady spot I call the “hospital” where they are growing roots or recovering.
At the end of the season I divide up lots of different plants and stick them into the ground in various locations, hoping that some will take root. Because of this, every spring is a surprise and I give thanks to six month ago me, for planting something new.
Working with plants gives present me a chance to leave something for future me. And present me also gets to thank past me, for taking the time. Time in the garden is not linear, there’s a cycle. Gardens aren’t productive all year, plants are not machines. Neither are we.
What are we leaving today for six months-from-now us?
These two plants illustrate. The potted pine on the right(not sure what variety?) I found on our old lot. She was merely an inch tall, poking out of a nest of weeds. I stuck her in a pot. We moved her with us and 15 years later -- here she is. Last year we strung lights in her boughs at Christmas time. I’m sure she has more potential than the pot allows, but until we find her a better spot, she’s our back yard pine, and she seems happy enough..
The eucalyptus on the left I rescued from the 50% off area of the nursery. I love eucalyptus because it reminds me of California. This little guy was merely 2 feet tall, a little spotty, but showed some promise. Plus, 50% off! So I took him home and put him in a pot in a sunny spot and he grew a little and was easy enough to care for that I didn’t really have to (care for him). A couple of years ago we put in a patio and a retaining wall in the backyard and I gave him a real home. Within four months he stretched to over 10 feet tall! All that time he wasn’t complaining, but he wasn’t even near his potential. I’m hoping I didn’t make a big mistake and he will take down the whole wall but… time will tell.
Seeing how this eucalyptus was perfectly happy and content enough in the small pot, but then skyrocketed once given more more space makes me think about containers, and how we grow to the size of our own. In what ways am I cozy and content, but if given a different set of circumstances, I could soar? In what ways am I staying in my small pot, roots bound, pushing on the walls, but not showing any signs of distress (yet).
One of my favorite books is Gay Hendrick’s “The Big Leap.” I don’t typically re-read books, but this one I have returned to many times. In it he says “Each of us has an inner thermostat setting that determines how much love, success, and creativity we allow ourselves to enjoy. When we exceed our inner thermostat setting, we will often do something to sabotage ourselves, causing us to drop back into the old, familiar zone where we feel secure.” Our pots, if you will.
I don’t think we need to abandon our current situations in order to thrive, but I definitely think it’s worth while to wonder and to feel into where in life do I feel tight, constricted, like there isn’t enough room. What small moves could I make to continue to grow? I don’t believe we are ever done growing, in fact the term “grown up” is a bit of a misnomer, as if it’s done and we are now complete. Life is about change, adapting, and trying new things. And if you feel like your pot is too tight, let’s talk, I have some ideas…