I'm newly married, and I'm finding a bit of unexpected joy in discovering what makes my husband tick. Of course, I knew Jeff before we were married - I knew him enough to want to spend the rest of my life with him - but upon marrying him I'm inevitably viewing him with new, fresh wife-eyes. My wife-eyes are so excited about my new husband, and they're gazing upon him with a deeper intensity than the old girlfriend-eyes did. All the time, they're watching for subtle nuances of what delights him, what he frowns upon, what makes him uncomfortable, what makes him chuckle, what brings forth that twinkle in his eye...
One thing my wife-eyes are noticing about my husband is that he has quite the green thumb. Er, let me rephrase that, because I've always known that he likes plants - what I'm really noticing is the way he lights up when he sees new growth springing forth from a plant in our garden. I'm noticing the enthusiasm with which he pushes the shopping cart merrily along the aisles in the gardening section at Lowe's - stopping here, stopping there, stroking his beard in consideration of the prospective new addition to our garden before him. I'm noticing the way he studies his plants. I think maybe the neighbors have noticed it too; the way he stands with his feet firmly planted in the grass in our small front yard, facing the house, hands on his hips, brows knit, eyes cast down on our plants for long durations of time. What is he looking at? - I look out the window and wonder.
His new experiment has been taking clippings from other plants, sticking them in soil and seeing if they root. The latest one was our "Love Ficus" clipping, which he stuck in a pot upon our arrival home from our honeymoon - the point being that if the ficus took root, then our job would be to nourish it and let it grow for the duration of our union - the ficus would grow with us.
While sitting in our front patio under the lazy summer sun this past weekend, drinking chilled chardonnay (sunshine in a goblet, I say!) and looking at our plants, Jeff illuminated my understanding of the miracle that is plant-growth. He was expressing excitement over the microscopic new sprouts on our Love Ficus. I dubiously looked at the plant and said, "You think it's really growing? It still looks like the same size... How do you know if it even took root?"
Jeff smiled confidently and pointed out the tiny new sprouts. He patiently explained that at first, growth is stunted in a new plant because its energy is focused on rooting. Only once the plant feels comfortable in its foundation will it initiate the growth of its leaves and start reaching for the sun. "I know it has rooted, because the energy is now focused on growth," Jeff demonstrated by gently pinching the stalk of the little ficus; sure enough, it didn't budge. I chuckled at this and nodded at the intelligence of the plant.
We can learn a thing or two from the plant's way of surviving. So often in our culture, our focus is fixed on the end result: we want to by-pass the process and land the dream job, have the happy relationship, shed the 10 lbs, have clarity of mind, peace in the heart, what-have you - and we want all of that now. What we forget - I think - is what needs to go on underneath in the soil before any of that good stuff manifests.
I see the same cultural phenomenon in my beginning yoga classes from time to time. Students expectantly look at me in class, waiting for me to guide them into full expressions of advanced postures - because for them, that is their end-result and the point to their practice. They disregard the breath work and easy postures I guide them through because in their mind, that has already been tackled (we can all breathe, right?) and they've got their sights on the "cool looking" stuff (I can say these things, because I was once that kind of yoga student).
By caring only for the end result - whether it be the full expression of a yoga posture, a flowering plant, a fulfilling relationship, a successful career - you are tripping yourself up by forgetting the most important part of the process that leads you to attain these things: establishing a foundation and rooting yourself into it. How do we do that - you ask?
Stop. Close your eyes. Take a breath - a big one. Reflect on where you want to be (in life, in yoga, what-have-you) and ask yourself why. If you feel good about that answer - if it lines up with your beliefs - it's now time to practice acceptance of where you are right now. Dig deep into your yoga practice as it is today, and feel good about it. Take a look at what's going on in your life, in your thoughts, in your feelings. Weed out the bad thoughts, find out where the negative feelings may be coming from. Only once you know where you are right now, can you begin to move into the direction of where you want to be.
We all want to rise up and reach for the sun. We want to be our best selves and contribute that greatness to the world. What I learned from our little Love Ficus this weekend is that even a weak cutting can grow into something great - what it takes is the time and energy it needs to root before it rises.
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