On faith in a seed
“Though I do not believe that a plant will spring up where no seed has been, I have great faith in a seed. Convince me that you have a seed there, and I am prepared to expect wonders.”
This belief in potential has sat with me all week—this idea that the smallest of things can grow into something monumental, that the path might not be known, nor the timeline, but that growth and change will follow—you just need to plant the right seed.
This came to me earlier this week when I visited my garden after weeks of neglect. Over a month ago, I had planted lettuces and kales. Yet it wasn't until Saturday that I remembered, almost as if by surprise, that I had done so. I had completely forgotten about these poor plants. So as I headed to take a look, I braced myself for a chore. I tried to calm the flicker of guilt growing. I started to rationalize the forgetting, not as a sign of being lazy but rather as a sign of simply surviving—at the risk of my plants not!
Instead of disarray, I found quite the opposite. My lettuces and kales were flourishing! And the time was perfect to harvest them. So harvest I did, and might I add, they were delicious—far better than anything bought from the store.
It turns out I had little faith in these little plants and the power of Nature to nurture them as needed. It also turns out I downplayed the role I did play in their growth and transformation.
This also reminded me of yoga sutra 4.3—nimittam aprayojakaṃ prakṛtīnāṃ varaṇa-bhedas tu tataḥ kṣetrikavat—which I'd put plainly like this: the gardener doesn't make the water flow—Nature does that on her own. The gardener just clears the channel and gets out of the way. I planted the lettuces and kales. Without me, the growth would not have happened. I pulled the weeds; without that, the plants might have been choked by these obstacles and not able to transform. And without actually giving Nature space to do her work, there might not have been a harvest.
This goes beyond the garden. It's true in any change we might be undertaking.
For example, many of us are going through a job search. Actively or passively, we are sowing new seeds or checking in on old ones. We are surprised by the help of a stranger, neighbor, former co-worker, willing to open up doors. We fail to remember the work of the seed, planted days, weeks or months before. We forget to believe in potential.
This weekend I'll harvest the remaining lettuces and kales for the end of the season and plant seeds that will flourish or not on their own path, their own timeline. And I will believe in their potential, and mine as well.