“The greatest things ever done on Earth have been done little by little.”- William Jennings Bryan
The other day, one of my truly wise blogging friends Barbarann Ayers from MakMineMemoir made a comment to me on my “Isn’t it Ironic?” post. A comment that I’ve been thinking about ever since. She wrote:
Digging new holes for new seeds is not irony, my dear Lisa. It is your assignment. You are the wellspring of ideas for others to nurture, develop and fly. Like aircraft designers who are never the pilot. Like farmers who plant what others will eat. What you leave in your wake is idea, motivation, encouragement work for others to do, and you might only ever see a glimpse of the outcome. I saw this as a child interrupted in the sandbox, called away from my castle building, and unhappy about it, only to come back later to see a finished sandcastle built on my beginnings, by other small hands who completed the task. You are the seed planter. That is your gift. You even get to water and nourish what you planted. No irony there. The whole cosmos is a happier place because you are the source of so many seeds, so many plantings. . .
My response to her was to ask, “What happens when you run out of seeds? I feel like I don’t have anymore.”
You can see her response on my post, but I’m still thinking about it.
I know that I am sometimes good at motivating others. I know that I can give inspiration when needed. I know that I am good with young people, especially girls, at getting them to see that the world is theirs to create. I know that I have a lot to offer a lot of different people, and can usually come up with solutions when others can’t.
But is that enough?
I have been somewhat silent on my own blog this week, because I feel seedless. ( I’ve been commenting, but I just haven’t felt like writing any posts).
The silence is not a struggle with words, although the words themselves seem reluctant, clinging to the inside of my brain rather than making their way onto the page. No, my struggle this week has been a struggle with self.
I know at least one reader who, if she reads it at all, will say I am just looking for attention. Perhaps I am in one way, since this week my thoughts hover around one word:
There is a difference between being alone and being lonely. When I am alone with a pocket full of seeds, I am not lonely. I can take each seed and imagine where and how it needs to be planted, and dream about what it takes to nurture the seed and make it grow.
When I feel lonely, though, I look in my secret collection of seeds to be planted and find only dusty remnants of seeds dried out with neglect. The dust blows away leaving nothing but silence.
How do I replenish them?
I look for inspiration in the world around me, and my eye falls onto two cards that I have pinned to a cork board on my wall.
I believe I am entering a new stage of learning. The roles and dreams I’ve lived with for a long time now no longer feel right. I’ve achieved many goals, and I guess I have planted a lot of seeds, but that isn’t enough. I need new seeds, new dreams, and perhaps a few new rungs on my ladder.
That could be exciting except that I have no idea what it means. I don’t know where to find seeds or what they will become when planted. I don’t know anything anymore.
However, not knowing might be a gift. Sidey’s Weekend Theme this week is “the unexpected.” I realize that some of the best experiences and adventures of my life have been completely unexpected. In this nebulous world of letting go and being open to new learning, I do not know what to expect. I can’t even imagine what may happen. All I have, for the moment, is the NOW.
So perhaps my seedless silence is merely a time to rest before the unexpected happens.
Only time will tell.