It’s funny how a single question can trigger a tidal wave of insecurity; how a well-intentioned inquiry can so quickly turn gratitude into envy, joy into resentment, and feelings of abundance into lack.
Are you you planning to…?
Did you know that you can…?
Why don’t you…?
Most of the time these questions come from well-meaning people who genuinely want to help. But these questions can feel like daggers. Instead of leaving us feeling encouraged and inspired, we walk away from these conversations feeling like we are already behind; like we don’t measure up in a competition we never signed up for.
Nowhere do I feel this more acutely than in my garden.
Now don’t get me wrong. I love gardening. There is truly nothing sweeter than planting a tiny seed and watching it grow into an abundant harvest.
But even the garden – a place of life, nourishment and flourishing – can so quickly become somewhere we measure ourselves and wonder whether we’re doing enough.
Why don’t you plant this or harvest that?
Did you know that you can make this or do that?
You know what you should try….?
Over the years, I’ve found that these well-meaning questions about gardening can leave me feeling like I’m somehow behind. If I don’t grow this, if my garden doesn’t look like that, if I haven’t tried this or that method, or found a use for every part of every harvest, it can leave me feeling like I’m doing something wrong. Questions like these turn somewhere life-giving into a place where I feel like I am not doing enough. Like I am not working hard enough. Like somehow, I am not enough.
I’ve had years where my harvest was incredible and others (like this year) where I wondered if my plants would survive at all. Each year I get to learn a little more, as I attempt to create a place of beauty and provide nourishing food for my family. Yet my garden is not my identity, nor is it a measure of my worth.
Gardens were never meant to be a place where we prove ourselves. They are one of the places in life where we get to practice patience, humility, gratitude and hope. And I don’t want the wonder and joy of gardening to be replaced by the pressure of the “more”.
Because the truth is, there will always be more I can do. More varieties to grow. More things to harvest. More ways to preserve food. More things to make. More techniques to try.
The beautiful thing about gardening is that there is always more to learn. The dangerous thing is believing that because there is more we can learn, that we are somehow falling behind.
So if you feel like you’re behind in this season, here are a few reminders:
You don’t have to grow everything.
You don’t have to optimize every part of your garden or harvest.
You don’t have to try every technique or method.
And you haven’t failed if your garden is struggling.
Every garden – along with every life – is different and no two were meant to be the same.
May we not let the pressure of the “more” we could be doing rob us of the joy and wonder of what’s already growing right in front of us.
This Darling Adventure 