I took my three year old daughter to the farmers market last Sunday to wander around a bit. As always, they have a community table with some kind of kid friendly activity. The lovely lady manning the table came over to us as we were turning the corner and asked if my daughter would like to plant a seed.
So here we have our bean seed, sitting comfortably on our kitchen table. Just a day or two ago, there was no sprout to be seen, no idea how it was fairing beneath the soil in its little terracotta pot.
I was thinking today, with all of the things I need to do (launching my real, self-owned, multi-use website, making new product, filling orders, client work, being a wife and mom) that it seems like I’m under layers of deep loam myself. The upper air, the bright sun, in all of it’s sustaining glory is obscured right now.
I’ve written before about feeling a little lost or directionless at times and I think that this strikes the perfect analogy. I’m gestating ideas. I’m working inside the shell of me, pushing at the skin of my own seed concept until I can break it open and start making for the surface. There’s a garden, germinating inside of my brain and I’m desperately trying to coax it out, above the surface for other people to enjoy.
This also explains my love of other creatives. I enjoy seeing flowers, and fruits of their labor shining on strong stems. It’s nice to know that sometimes a seed springs into full being and is fully realized as it should.
Sometimes there’s that itching little jealous twitch that comes from gardens full of glorious art. Sometimes I wonder how I’ll ever catch up to someone like that, or whether it’s worth trying. However, everything looks like magic to a person who doesn’t know the trick. The trick in this case, is doing the work under that dark, fertile loam, and having the faith that you’ll break the surface wide open.
I’ll meet you out in the sunshine when you do.