I don’t garden. The minute there’s weeding or planting to do you’ll have a hard time finding me.
But I got to thinking this week about how spring is so enthusiastic. We’ve had such a mild winter for this region this year and I’m grateful.
Suddenly something has changed and green-ish lawns are now bright green.Trees are blooming. Birds are singing their fucking brains out.
I once told my kids that birds were just announcing to the world at large that they wanted to get it on. Same for the frogs and toads we can hear every night. Our backyard is a cacophony of horny animals.
I take great pleasure in traumatizing my spawn.
But anyway… looking at the plants growing. And they grow so fast! I got to thinking about whether they feel any self-doubt.
They have no idea where they are. They have no control over their environment. They could be eaten or mowed or trampled at any time,. But they grow in spite of all that.
I like to think that they have faith.
Faith in where they are. In the sun coming out. In their potential.
When their leaves unfurl, it’s almost like worshiping the sun. Gratitude for the food and light and life.
I have such respect for the relentless faith of growing plants.
But of course we can take that one step further and apply the faith to our journeys. This isn’t the faith of religion. It’s not the faith of passively sitting around waiting for things to happen either.
It’s the faith of a person who plants seeds, through creative endeavors. Who works hard to see those seeds grow.
That becoming who we are meant to be involves a lot of hard work and a belief it will happen.
That this little tiny seed can become a fantastic tree.