In the interests of ‘getting it out of my system’, here I write, from a position of slight confusion, severe irritation, and poignant reflection.
First the analogy – with me, there will always have to be one: it helps me explain things to myself. Back to nature again: the garden always gives me inspiration.
It’s very lush at the moment, having been fed with lots(!) of water, and a fair amount of sun. I’ve personally added lots of food – in form of compost, and care – tending it, weeding it, and looking at it. I’ve tried anthropomorphic personalisation – I’ve tried to make it feel wanted. I want it to produce good things you see. I have some food plants in, but also pretty things that are new this year, and give me colour. Some are for now, some for this year, and some for the long haul. It’s about investment you see, and the long term is worth the investment. I truly believe that. Some things are worth fighting for, and some things are worth being patient for. I feel a quiet calm as I write that. Odd, isn’t it, how one can feel such warmth from words, and better understand your innermost feelings. And without words, how can we communicate those feelings to others?
But back to the plot. Garden, that is, rather than allotment. I’ve taken time to plan it, and spend time in it, and it is starting to show the rewards. I’ve even got two gardens that I tend and care for. One is wild and unruly in places, but vibrant and proud, which is part of its charm. It is bursting with colour and fullness. The other is simple, and quiet. Both are rewarding in equal measures, and work symbiotically for me. Not everyone can understand that I guess, but I do.
The confusion is - why I have planted broad beans? I don’t particularly like them. As a by-product, they are looking very strong and pretty, with interesting white and purple flowers.
I suppose I want the beans for my displays. I want to say I grew them. I want to feel the joy of the nurturing and tending them. But I don’t want the resulting edible pods. It’s a mixture of confusion.
My mind is the same – I don’t know why I put myself through all this analysis. Others don’t suffer from over analysis – I know some do, but by no means all. I think over every action and reaction. And I shouldn’t: I know I shouldn’t – but it’s me. But I’m logical human being – so why have I not learnt not to do it? I just don’t know. Sometimes it reaps rewards, other times, just wastes my energy, and stops me looking to more realistic goals.
The severe irritation is my work based life. I am prevented from doing my job by factors out of my control, and am left hanging, waiting, and not knowing what to do. The garden has been severely stunted by the erratic weather this year. I cannot control the sun, or the rain. I can control the water – by collecting the drips (and deluge) in the butts, and using endless watering-can loads to give the plants nourishment. I can move delicate seedlings indoors, and tend them. I can control my planting – pinks, blues and purples this year (and every year) as I love the factor of a waft of colour sweeping and toning across my vista.
But still the dandelions burst out in yellow. And get pulled up immediately (I have no patience with them at all). And then there is the yellow creeping plant by the pond, which gently covers some of the bare patches with green, and then pops out in yellow buttercup-type flowers. I don’t want to pull them out. But they don’t go with my master plan.
Is my master plan a romantic nonsense? Probably. But what is life if we do not strive for our dreams.
I have to adjust. Be patient. Look at the bigger picture and relax. Life will find a way. It cannot be wholly controlled. You can try, but too many variables are at work here – and it’s hard to manage them all. That’s the problem at work. There is too much complexity to catch everything – all you can do sometimes is sit back and watch what happens, then adjust your actions and your plan accordingly. Work out what is really important, and strive for that. The blackbird ruined one tray of my seedlings, but at least he keeps coming back. I like to watch him.
And the poignant reflection? I tried to rescue a sad rock rose from B&Q a few months back. In spite of my efforts, it died. It was just too far gone. My poignant reflection tells me that my work life struggles may be telling me that it’s time to move on. I’ve had enough of fighting the same battles, and maybe someone else could do better here, where I move on to find new motivation. I am trying to do too much, and it’s not fair on either garden, or work, or life. But I want to fight on. I want to succeed, and not give in. And be able to say that I managed it all (see previous posts on being a goddess). But mostly, I want to do what is right. And whether that is the same as doing what is possible, is the question.
I love my job. I love it dearly. But will it kill my spirit? Could someone else tend my garden? Of course they could, and probably do it better – or just as well, but differently. And although it would temporarily devastate me, I would know happiness if it made things better.
