The Garden: Germination
who knew joy came in the form of little green shoots?
sometimes the waiting is hard. in all these in-between moments, when the wind quiets and the water settles, my head sinks down into where all the doubt and fear have sedimented.
and there, as time slows down, everything else in my mind speeds up. what if the seeds don't take? what if there are pests? is this enough light? is this too much light? am i giving enough water? am i giving too much? why is this taking so long?
(and i look at the calendar; only three days have passed)
i stick with the guidelines, water only as needed, yet it doesn't feel like enough. as if i could make nature move faster by micromanaging her. i felt crushingly responsible. as if she was mine to control. and this, i realized, was ego pacing its cage.
to be fair, as the grower i'm instrumental in this process-- but only so, and not more than that. to my understanding this is no ownership or hierarchy, and the plants adhere to no human notion of responsibility.
if anything it's a cooperation, a joint effort. mine is an effort in providing everything the plants need, and facilitating their growth. theirs is in their growing, in their fruiting, and in their gentle mentorship over an often anxious and restless human child.
shoots rise, and unfailingly nature puts me back in my place.
i am only as i am to be; i do only as i am to do. and it will be, and it will be enough. it is enough. i am enough. just like them.