In a sea of green pic by Ithan Hurd
Well, hello there! How’s your day been so far?
Mine’s been a broody beauty that’s what 🙂
Whatever your answer may be, I hope your day will be better simply because you passed by.
Also, because I’m all about setting the mood, for an ambient experience, allow this song Carry On by King to play in the background as you read the rest of the post. Okay? Okay.
I’m not a farmer. Never been one for it. Agriculture back in my early 8-4-4 days was deemed shady (guess who’s laughing now) and digging trenches or slashing grass was the ultimate punishment. Oh the irony of our times!
I don’t have much experience with a ‘jembe’ but I remember a particular day my dad had my brother and I harvest beans (and you know how low they are) and watermelons. Needless to say, that was the last time he asked. It felt like torture especially because the land was too big.
I know. I know. These are ‘born town’ problems. Haha! But I was so used to not caring about the process that led to the food on my plate. Again, ‘born town’ problems. Not denying it one bit.
The strange thing is that though there hasn’t been any fondness to farming, gardening looks somewhat appealing. It’s like you get to have a tiny corner that you can tend to and watch grow. So if it’s flowers or vegetables or both, it’s yours to watch over. Bellisima!
I always used to daydream about owning some green gardening gloves, a trowel and watering can (I blame all the hours flipping through ASDA catalogues as a child) because gardening is an excuse to play with dirt. No? C’mon! We ALL played ‘Çha Mama.’
Granted, it’s fancier than farming but it’s still deep work. And I’d rather learn through a small corner than a whole acre. Baby steps.
In fact, though both are very different and need totally different equipment, the heart of gardening and farming is the same – plant seeds in hopes that they would grow, scare away the bugs, water often, be diligent in tending to them and you’ll see them grow.
The thing is though, if you’re holding your breath every second for any sign of change, you’re in for disappointment. Why?
It doesn’t scream in panic during winter. It doesn’t fear the leaves turning brown. It’s just confident in its process and becoming.
If only it were the same for us.
Do you remember the science experiments in primary school? The ones where we’d put seeds in cans filled with dirt, place them by the window and watch them grow? The process would take a few days but it felt like ages before we’d see the shoot, the stalk and the seedling, right?
Isn’t life and dreaming much like that?
As we wait to see what we’ve been tending to or what’s inside of us, ours is to grow toward the light. Ours isn’t to number and count but borrow a leaf from nature (see what I did there?) and remain confident in our slow becoming.
I love how Rina said it.
“In this there is no measuring with time, a year doesn’t matter, and ten years are nothing. Being an artist means: not numbering and counting, but ripening like a tree, which doesn’t force its sap, and stands confidently in the storms of spring, not afraid that afterward summer may not come. It does come. But it comes only to those who are patient, who are there as if eternity lay before them, so unconcernedly silent and vast. I learn it every day of my life. Learn it with pain. I am grateful for: patience is everything!”
― Rainer Maria Rilke
There’s that word again – patience. Slow but confident through it.Life, much like gardening and farming, is signing up for the wait. Click To Tweet
See how God teaches us.
It’s all gestation and then birthing.
In the same way harvest is the fullness of planting, waiting brings the fullness and yield at the end of every season we go through. The planting of dreams, taking risks, beginning again… Every thing yields upon maturation.
And this is true:
“Trees that are slow to grow bear the best fruit.”
I leave you with this song for your journey or week and honey words by King that will leave you marked with courage and hope.