Yesterday I spent a little bit of time talking about time … this morning I’m floundering around unsure about where to take us next, so I’m going to share some of the thoughts I had during my morning meditation.

It occurred to me that time is like a seed, it starts out compressed and organized and then it explodes into something that cannot and will not ever be put back into that tight little package.

This is also a perfect example of how life might work. In the beginning, before we are born, maybe we are just an idea, a tight little package, neatly organized and full of possibilities. And then we get planted. And with the right conditions, just like a seed, our experience of life explodes just a little bit and a tiny root begins to extend out and down looking for nourishment and a home base. At the same time, we begin to extend up and out reaching for possibilities, the larger world. And there’s this huge drive to be more than we are right now, an irresistible push to expand and grow and be everything we can be.

So this brings up lots of interesting questions:

• Who has the original idea?
• Is there a larger me out there in the void of the unknown?
• Who really plants that little seed?
• Is there any way to look out past the known world and see the larger picture?
• Could I possibly be a random thought? Unfinished and unplanned?

If we take this metaphor a little further, we realize that it really does matter what family you were born into, and where, and when. For example, last year I planted an ambitious container garden. I went to the greenhouse and bought a bunch of flowers and herbs. I just got the ones I wanted without paying any attention to how big they would get, or what sort of sunlight and soil they might need to thrive.

Here’s what happened.

The mint grew like crazy! I don’t know who ate the carnations, but they were the first to go. Rabbits munched away on the impatiens but they managed to hold their own for quite a while, unlike the marigolds which surprised me by disappearing rather quickly. The lavender loved her spot, and did really well.

The coleus turned into a huge giant that totally overpowered the patchouli. He was really pretty, but he was also kind of a bully. Some of the scented geraniums did really well, others not so much. The rose bush was spectacular. The dahlia’s sprawled all over the place, made some really wonderful flowers, and then suddenly died.

I didn’t think the wildflower seeds I planted would ever grow, and when they finally did they were weak and spindly and only 2 zinnias and a handful of cosmos survived. My morning glories were beautiful, but they had a hard time figuring out what to grow up onto and tended to get into a tangled mess.

Clearly it matters not only where you are planted but who you are planted next to, and obviously stuff will happen like too much rain, 105 degree heat, hail storms, ice and snow, rabbits, mice, and deer. This sounds a lot like life to me.

Who are you in the Garden of Life?

I’ve always thought that if I was a flower, I’d be a Morning Glory, climbing all over stuff, blooming in the sun, dropping seeds all over the place. Then come winter, the first hard freeze, and I’m out of here. If I was a tree, I’d be a Hedge Tree… strong, old, gnarly, prickly, maker of a messy fruit that dinosaurs loved but no one else cares for too much.

I also feel that I was fortunate in that I was planted in a family, a time, and a place that made me strong and forced me to reach really deep, and hold really tight to what matters.

Something To Think About

What about you? If you were a plant, what kind of a plant would you be?

What if if this metaphor about life and seeds is true, does this mean that I cannot change my essential nature any more than a weakly cosmos could become a big strapping coleus? And would I even want to? Does the cosmos even think once about how it wishes it could be mint? or a morning glory? or a rosebush? And even if it did, what would be the point? It is what it is. Right?

And does this mean that I am who I am because I am who I am and that I will not change into someone else no matter how much I might want it to? Does it also mean that it might not be my fault if I don’t thrive and grow in the directions that I feel I should be thriving and growing? That circumstances and situations might have a limiting effect on my aspirations, goals, hopes, and dreams?

My little flowers and herbs did their absolute best to grow and thrive in the environment I gave them. And that’s what we do, right? Even when our best isn’t quite good enough, even when circumstances beat us down, even when we know we are doomed to failure, we still keep on keeping on being us… being our essential selves, because that’s who we are, and how can we be anyone else?