I’m down and out, you might say. I’ve caught a terrible stomach bug that’s had me bedridden for several days. As someone who’s motivated by their day planner and to-do lists, it’s been a bit of a challenge to accept that I’ve hardly had the energy for anything but sleeping. Yet as I type this letter from beneath a mound of sheets, I see another soft reminder to slow down, atop my bookcase…
Before falling sick, I took an afternoon this week to sew seeds. I rescued a few plastic fruit and egg containers and (hopefully) created the first home for some flowering perennials. Over the years I’ve propagated succulents and pothos, grown lemon and avocado trees from seedlings, but I’ve yet to grow my own outdoor flowers from seed to plant. Last year, I accidentally drowned the few perennials I’d sown that managed to sprout. This year I’m hoping to have a gentler watering hand!
Creating the little indoor garden for these flowers was incredibly relaxing. The damp soil, tiny seeds, early springtime sunlight—it was quiet and tranquil. I could hear myself breathing, and the stillness of those hours carried with me for days after. There’s something so healing about nurturing the prospect of new life. And it’s humbling to admit that all I can do is my best—I’m no gardening expert and lead with my heart and intuition, and must patiently wait several weeks before knowing if my efforts will pay off.
So, I’m reminded to live with awareness and contentment now and not hitch my happiness to the happenings of the future.
The future may be unknown, but there’s magic in the mundane, the ordinary, and the unknown, ripe for the picking each step of the way.
We’ll just have to wait and see if my little seeds take root and grow! Regardless, they sure make me happy, sitting over there atop my bookcase, basking in the sunlight.