Goodwork Almanac

Tag: vegetables

  • The Problem with the Present

    The Problem with the Present

    It is that time of the year in the garden. The plant starts have all been transplanted, the seeds sprouted and everything looks… terrible. The garden is currently suffering in its early days. After transplanting, our tomatoes, cucumbers, and squash were all distressed and doing their best to recover. They are wilted most days in the sun, turning yellow as they reach their roots out for more nutrients, and the bugs just love to gorge themselves on the weak little leaves! Some animal came by and helped themselves to the tops of some of our tomato plants, so those are gone. As an added kicker, there is a bumper crop of weeds due to a lovely spring rainfall we have been having.

    The present is all there is. Yes, and that is sometimes the problem. How many different voices are out there, trying to remind us to live in the present or experience the moment?

    Buddha said “Don’t dwell on the past, don’t dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment.” Albert Einstein said, “A happy man is too satisfied with the present to dwell too much on the future.” Thich Nhat Hanh said, “Only the present moment is real.” I love all these thoughts. The people who have expressed them were much more intelligent than I am. But whenever I heard this advice, or different versions of it, I always felt some discomfort in it. As if there were something more that this was missing, a little thorn in my mind that demanded to add its two cents to the popular sayings of mindfulness. I guess it would be something like: “The present is all there is… and sometimes that sucks!”

    I really want to labor the point that I love the practices of mindfulness and that I think living in the present moment is a habit we could all cultivate to improve our mental health and clarity. It is important to remind yourself that the past is past, that the future is not here and not within our control. Those are useful thoughts.

    Consider this hypothetical – your friend comes to you in despair and says they are going through one of the hardest times of their life. Everything they do seems to go nowhere, everywhere they turn feels like a dead end. Their daily life feels futile and unfulfilling and they have begun to feel quite lonely as a result. They turn to you for a word of wisdom. You say, “Don’t worry, this is it. This is all there is. Live in the moment!”

    In this particular moment, this thought is not useful. For someone going through the difficulties and pains of existence, it is precisely that the present moment is all there is that their suffering feels protracted and insurmountable.

    I am being somewhat dramatic to make a point. And I am definitely not comparing the difficulties of life with a few wilted tomato starts. These observations point in the same direction. The present is one piece of what we experience, whether we like it or not.

    Reality can be devastatingly unsatisfying at times. The urge for alternative pathways in life, the myths we tell ourselves about do-overs, the thought that it could all be different if we just change this or that element – these things are not going anywhere anytime soon. They are part and parcel to the regular woes of living, and we should probably learn to navigate them if we are to attain a peace that we can actually enjoy in the present. If an individual feels the present to be unsatisfying and painful, do we console them by saying that’s just how it is or do we tell them “The good news”: the fact that we can work toward a future that is more promising, more satisfying!

    Sure, there are pitfalls and mistakes to be made along the way. You may end up living entirely in the future and feel anxiety in that regard. You may accidentally cultivate an unpleasant attachment to the past. If you are not careful, you may arrive at your destination only to realize that your desires are self-perpetuating and will leave you unfulfilled no matter how much you achieve. These are all things we must consider as we make plans and work toward our ideals.

    Properly handling Past and Future is difficult work. It is dangerous. It is the sign of a mature person when they can walk through their memories without setting up camp. Or in building a plan for the future that can change how they act today in their habits and relationships. It takes courage, discipline, and not a small dose of humility.

    Driving comes with a lot of dangers and risks as well but we take the time to teach people how to do their best to get where they are going while paying attention to all the hazards of the road. It still doesn’t help some people – they’re insane and they’re all on i25.

    The past.

    When living in the present moment, it is quite common to stumble across a random memory you did not know was still floating around. At times, they are quite painful. Other times, they are more enjoyable than our present moment and we feel a sickness called nostalgia.

    Often, I will be working away when I am flooded by a sensation of memories that dislodge my very Being. I am inundated with details, old feelings, names and faces, all the old situations I thought I was done with. And I ask myself, “What do I do with all this information? What do I do with all these memories?” Memories aren’t grass stains, they don’t just wash out. Push them down, keep them locked up, they keep on appearing.

    I was in my garden the other day when one possible solution came to mind. Memory as a salve, memory as a tool.

    As we know, my garden is particularly disorganized and sickly looking right now. Looking out at this devastating sight, I remembered what the garden always looks like during this time of year. Hopeless, wilted, defeated. And then something happens in late June, early July. You kept watering, you kept weeding and all of a sudden everything bursts forward.

    In the present moment, when things look horrible and you think defeat is the only outcome, it may help you to search your past for other moments when things seemed bleakest.

    We also want to steer clear of romanticizing the past. Don’t look back and say, “it was better then.” Look back and ask, “what did that moment have that I can recreate now for the benefit of all?”

    Sometimes, memory may just be about cultivating simple pleasures. When I was 17, I loved the lilacs blossoming in spring. I always felt the urge to cut them and put them in a vase inside. I wanted to possess them and keep them. But I thought to myself how much deeper my experience of them would be if I simply committed them to memory. “I’m taking them with me right now,” I thought. The cut flowers would have faded inside a week but those lilacs will bloom forever in the light of my memory.

    The present.

    It can sometimes feel that people are overly mystical about the present. But there are, in my mind, just as many shortcomings to be had living in the present as in the past or future.

    Our estimates of the present can be just as inaccurate as predictions of the future. You would think we would be able to size up the present situation fairly well, since we are rational creatures and we have the advantage of living in the present moment – we are in it, rather than judging it piece by piece from a different era.

    In reality, we have a hard time analyzing our situation without involving our preconceived notions and biases. We can just as easily come to an incorrect conclusion about the present as we can in trying to make a prediction of the future.

    You may train yourself to live in the present moment but you still fall victim to making incorrect estimates of the opinions of others. You focus on things you cannot control in the moment, you focus on things that are none of your business in the moment, you use this information to make decisions in the moment that decide your habits and then your fate.

    With the present feeling somewhat unfulfilling occasionally, it is natural to look around to compare our situation to someone else’s. This would be a grave error. Not only does it lend itself to envy, it may cause much confusion and anxiety in regard to whether or not we are on the right path. When we compare our present to another’s, we might be comparing our day 1 to someone else’s 10 years of experience. We may become overwhelmed because we don’t “have it all” right now, when we could very well work towards getting what we want over the course of an entire life. You may be able to get everything you want, it just may not be all at once.

    The future.

    When we consider our memories and our perception of the present, what are we left with? The present is a little unsatisfying, memories are a little painful. Life is a bit unsatisfying and painful. So… now what? The mind turns toward the future.

    Looking to the future has gotten a bit of a bad reputation. It is commonly associated with anxiety, fear, and visions of apocalypse. But just like anything else, it can be useful when taken up by the right handle.

    There are going to be some things we know about the future. We know there are going to be hard times, though that probably isn’t very exciting to think about. Then again, knowing is somewhat comforting. There are going to be uncertainties and questions. There is going to be work.

    You will do everything you can, because that is all there is you can do. You will be you when you arrive but you may be something else afterwards.

    There are going to be different seasons of life, though you may not know what order they’re coming in. In nature, fall follows summer. In our lives, we do not know what follows.

    Marcus Aurelius said that we should not worry about the future because we will show up with the same weapons that currently arm us against the present. If you know you can endure pain now, then you know you can endure pain in the future with the same tools at your disposal.

    When you come across someone who has absolutely no plan for the future, it shows in the quality of their life. They don’t think about the consequences of their actions or the long-term effects of their present decisions. They say things like “we only live once” and “why not, there may not be a tomorrow!” but then tomorrow comes… and it keeps on coming along, one tomorrow after another. These people give themselves much more pain when they sacrifice the future for present gain or temporary pleasures.

    The world is full of people making decisions with little or no thought to future consequence. Agricultural practices that are focused on present production sacrifice a part of their future sustainability. They have cut themselves off from part of their potential because they were mystified by what they could do in the present moment, what they could get right now. Delayed gratification is a sign of maturity.

    “To plant a garden is to believe in the future.” Audrey Hepburn

    Some months ago, I was working with one of the worst coworkers I have ever experienced. He was rude, vulgar, had no sense of boundaries, did not have any work ethic, was constantly spewing his negative thoughts and opinions, and would never stop talking. The work was just as repetitive as he was. I was working nights during the winter and did not get a chance to see my fiancée very much, as we had opposite schedules. It was a difficult time.

    I remember on a particularly challenging night, I was close to losing my mind. I wanted to walk out of that place just to be rid of that discomfort. But I tried to breathe and I consoled myself by repeating the phrase, “You’re going to keep going. You’re going to get out of here.” It was at that moment I realized one could just as easily console themselves with the future as fret over it.

    If we never considered the future, we would never start anything worthwhile. We would look out at a dusty field and say, “I guess that’s it.” If we did not picture the harvest in our mind, we would not sow. Sure, it hurts to think about the things we do not have, sure it is painful and self-sacrificing to begin the long work we need to do in order to achieve our aims, but the mature person knows the future has more potential than the present as long as they keep showing up.

    Sustainable practices are about looking at what we do now and deciding how long we can keep it up for. Sacrificing the future for present gain is how we get exactly where we are now. Sacrificing a part of the present for the sake of the future is sustainable, is delayed gratification, is the tradition of great civilizations and communities.

    Conclusions

    Is this post still about gardening? The garden is a metaphor, it’s about life! I pull the carrots, and they teach me about economics. I plant tomatoes and I am learning the oldest lessons in psychology. It’s all there in the garden because it’s all connected. I am a metaphor farmer.

    So, what do we do with more than our fair share of past, present, and future? The key is to focus on what you can control. You can look into the future and make a practical savings plan because you can control how much you start to save now, today, this moment. You can plan projects, events, and achievements because these things involve you and the things you can do now, they involve your habits.

    You cannot control the past, but you can control what you tell yourself about it. Was it an embarrassing disaster or a learning experience? I would say we look at our memory as a bank of wealth that we have at our disposal. What has worked and what has not worked? For you and even for other people you know about, there is no limit to this wealth. We use this memory to help us accept the present. Not better than it is, not worse than it is. We must live here, so we must get used to it.

    Then, holding our memory in one hand and our present in the other, we can build a plan. Something we can work on, something we want to work on, as this is the kind of work that is day-in and day-out. The work of life does not stop. Jung said, “Adaptation does not happen once and for all.”

    Now your plans are dashed against fortune. It is harder than you thought. It takes longer than you thought. Yes, that is another thing we know for sure about the future, there will be many attempts. Then you take up the torch again and make another plan. Sow more seeds, plant more starts, keep watering.

    The present moment can sometimes be awful, that is true. It is for this reason that we must appreciate when it is not so awful. When it is pleasant going and we feel ourselves on our own paths and we have people in our lives that we want to share these things with, we must not make the mistake of not paying attention. After all, the present is all there is!

  • Abundance is Natural

    Lessons from My Chickens Series

    When we started gardening, we harvested maybe two or three pounds of produce our first year. We were so proud of our shriveled, little radishes and our fistful of basil. Last year, we managed to produce in excess of three hundred pounds of produce as well as collected thousands of eggs from our chickens. We could not believe how simple it had been. I won’t say easy because, at times, it was some of the most tedious and grueling work I could have chosen to do. But after caring for the chickens into their adulthood, the eggs just kept on coming! Day after day after day, the chickens did their goodwork and laid egg after egg. In the later part of the summer when most of the vegetables were ready to harvest, we were drowning in good, quality food we had grown ourselves. It felt like printing our own money. We realized that this should not have been surprising at all. Nature is abundant and abundance is natural.

    I think there is a tendency for us to look at our work from the standpoint of pure effort. I built this house, I grew this food, I fixed this motor, I achieved this, I made that. When it comes to gardening and other pursuits that are more intimately related to nature, you may eventually realize something. That you never really grow anything.

    That may sound strange, but it is true. I don’t grow my tomatoes. The tomato plants grow themselves. I can’t grow squash or basil or peppers, only the plants know how to do that. I may put them in the ground and water them occasionally but the plant knows what it needs to do and does it even without my supervision. It is the same with the chickens. I may bring them feed but they are the ones turning their feed into eggs. I come along and collect when it’s time.

    Nature is inherently abundant. We simply arrange things to allow for nature to do what nature does best, which is produce things in abundance.

    This flies in the face of some preconceived notions I had about living this life. I thought the effort I was putting in was translating into the things I received. When I stopped trying so hard, things kept going on producing without me. It didn’t have to be about struggle, effort, and exertion. I still worked hard and was diligent about completing my part in the process but I didn’t have to exhaust myself in trying to achieve these things. I set the stage and then let nature do its thing. I think our nature works along the same lines.

    By our nature, I simply mean becoming whatever you are and acting this process out every day. I think we have all been around people who are not doing the thing they were made for. They are frustrated and angry, which are surface level signs that they are most likely depressed and filled with the anxiety of something that has not been allowed to become itself. We have met with the mechanic who doesn’t want to be a mechanic. A striking difference between them and the mechanic who actually wants to be a mechanic, wouldn’t you agree? In the first case, they are annoyed to the point of rage by any obstacle or setback, they are short and impolite with their coworkers and customers, and they treat their tools and surroundings with disdain and contempt. Why? Because they do not want to be there, and every part of their daily reality reminds them of that.

    To the person who is naturally a mechanic, a setback is just that and nothing else. Something to get through and get over. But to the person who is already at the edge of their limits, engaged in something they would rather not do, any inconvenience becomes a reminder of their underlying disappointment.

    We each have a nature that cannot be denied. It can be worked with, improved, built upon, and developed but when an individual denies their nature they are in for a world of hurt. The introvert is not going to naturally be inclined to public speaking, an extrovert outdoorsman is not going to be inclined to solitary work in a dimly lit cubicle. That would be like trying to milk a chicken or pull eggs off a tomato plant. If we align ourselves with our nature and with the limits and properties of nature in general, we can achieve great things.

    When things are aligned with nature. then productivity becomes a pleasant process. In the garden, plants that are healthy, happy, and allowed to fully express their nature provide in abundance. I have never seen a tomato plant harassed into abundance, or a chicken starved into increased production. This is why every aspect must be respected in due course. Natural things are productive, and productivity is natural.

    It may not be as obvious in natural settings that there are exchanges being made and mutually beneficial situations being sought out but it is quite common to see these kinds of cost/benefit relationships cropping up in the natural world. They may not use money and factories but make no mistake, plants and animals profit from different resources that are available at different times and they make the use of these benefits in order to grow, adapt, and overcome the challenges of their unique situation.

    Someone’s goodwork may be making shoes, welding, carpentry, teaching, accounting, raising children, cutting hair, sweeping streets, stirring a pot of soup. I believe all work has in it a certain sacred duty that the individual can be a part of and be proud of. We are, each of us, putting in order our little corner of the universe.

    Finding our goodwork means finding positive relationships with work, with wealth, and with nature. Building a community that believes in the benefits, nuance, and the potential of doing good work. Opening discussions as to how we will improve our work going forward, how we will build a world we want to live in and not one we just put up with. This is what Goodwork is about.

    I wanted to share this idea in case there were potential farmers or gardeners who were dissuaded from this pursuit by the thought that the workload would slowly kill them. It is also applicable to anyone who wishes to pursue their own goodwork and fears the immensity of the tasks ahead of them. Look to your nature, and to Nature in general. Nature does almost all the work we claim to do and does it silently, at that. It demands no attention and achieves all its ends.

    “Nature does not hurry and yet everything is accomplished.” – Lao Tzu

  • How to Kill Tomatoes

    How to Kill Tomatoes

    *Disclaimer: this is not intended as a purely instructional article on the growing of tomatoes. For more information on the growing of tomatoes and the processes and techniques we use, reach out through our instagram: @goodworkgardens

    There is no gardening achievement quite like the tomato. Often undertaken by absolute beginners and professionals alike, they are a symbol of the health of the garden as well as a motivating image of the harvest one must get to at the end of the season.

    When we started growing our own tomato plants four years ago, we made every mistake you could possibly make. In starting seeds, we simply tossed them into some random containers of soil, put them in a humid plastic container and set them by the window to give them some light. We saw sprouts after a couple days. They quickly shot up, reaching weakly for the light of our window, then fell over with their spindly stems and died, pale and desperate. Enter: our neighbor.

    A horticulture student at our local university, she had the magic touch. She looked at our setup in disbelief and said three things that changed our routine.

    1. Put their light as close to their container as you can. We bought a long grow-light from our local hardware store and set it about two or three inches above the soil surface. When they sprouted and as they grew, we kept raising the light with them.
    2. Use starter soil. It made a huge difference in both nutrient content and moisture retention. The soil was loose enough for little seedling roots but could also retain moisture so the sensitive sprouts would not dry out.
    3. Put the seeds near the surface and cover them with vermiculite. We had been burying our seeds about an inch below the surface and leaving the soil uncovered. We consistently had gnats in our grow area (our living room). The vermiculite increased our germination success as well as got rid of our gnat problem.

    With her help, we kept learning from our mistakes and kept growing. When the seedlings started getting tall, we called for her help again. She recommended we keep a fan on them to build the strength of their stems. The little breeze signals to the sprouts to “Hold on!” and this develops their roots and stems.

    In those years, we were container gardening in our inhospitable yard. We planted our tomatoes in an assortment of five gallon buckets along our fence and supported them with flimsy tomato cages that are common in gardening centers. When we began to get ripe tomatoes, we were elated. Almost immediately, we understood why harvest festivals have been such an integral cultural practice in every civilization in the history of the world. Harvests seem impossible. That is why they are celebrated with such devotion. The work and attention and endless variables throughout the season distract you from the possibility of a reward. When you finally get to that day, it feels unrelated somehow, and providential.

    In that year, I think we had somewhere around five pounds of tomatoes and random assortment of other produce – chamomile flowers, a couple shriveled radishes, four or five little potatoes. Still, we were hooked.

    The next year, in addition to the container garden in our yard, we also signed up for our local community garden where we were assigned an in-ground garden plot of one hundred square feet. We took the lessons that we learned the previous year and we were off to the races. And we did much better! It was nothing compared to what we do today or compared to professionals but we were increasing our yield and gardening in the actual ground. We learned to bury the tomato starts deep, to mulch heavily, and to KEEP UP WITH THE PRUNING!

    We were still not measuring our yield yet but I estimate we got about ten pounds of tomatoes and maybe a pound of peppers and carrots. Often we would neglect the plot, getting busy and distracted in our day-to-day lives as one does, and we would forget to water.

    After two years of consistent learning, lots of trial-and-error, and becoming more attentive to the garden, we were really becoming skilled. That year, we started close to five hundred plants and sold them in a little street market sale on our street alongside our neighbors. They were all happy and healthy. We had three neighbors who were horticulture majors or professional gardeners and that helped with increasing our knowledge. It also happened to be a wet spring and summer. Our community garden plot exploded with life and it seemed like we did not have to try as hard to get ten times the amount of produce.

    Overwhelmed with the abundance, we began to keep track of our harvests in poundage and type of produce. By the end of the season, we had raised one hundred pounds. Tomatoes, beans, carrots, squash, peppers, radishes, and many different types of herbs. That year changed things dramatically – we finally saw the potential in raising quality food for ourselves and others, a dream which still drives us currently.

    The community garden and our haphazard container garden weren’t cutting it anymore. Our ambition was to do even more and for that we needed more space. I connected with a local who rented his land out. We didn’t need much. We had only managed a hundred-square-foot plot and a few buckets, so we didn’t want to scale up faster than we could handle. After much initial work, we set up three hundred square feet of in-ground gardening space and a coop full of beautiful chickens. That year we grew approximately three hundred pounds of produce and gathered something around 2,000 eggs.

    That year we had grown twenty tomato plants. Fifteen made it to harvest, the others dying of various causes including disease and pests. Tomatoes come in so many shapes, sizes, and colors, we wanted to experiment a little and find out what the best varieties were. Our personal favorites were the German Pink and the Pineapple for cutting tomatoes, the Peron and Roma for sauce or salad tomatoes, and the Prairie Fire and Yellow Pear tomatoes for snacking/cherry tomato varieties.

    Following the tomatoes from seedling all the way to a favorite recipe was deeply rewarding. There is so much to say about this staple crop in its impact on cuisine and culture but that is for another time. For now, I will focus on the growing… and the killing of tomato seedlings.

    This year went a little different than previous years. Here I was, thinking we had this all figured out and down to a science. I thought we could grow a thousand seedlings with our eyes closed. But each year teaches you a different lesson. Each year the circumstances are different, the variables have changed, and you are not the same individual that grew this garden the previous year. It is never the same garden twice.

    Of the one hundred tomato plants we started, almost all were withering and dying after the first two weeks of growth. I stressed about the different variables – the soil quality, the watering schedule, the lights we used. Making adjustments seemingly changed nothing. They just kept on dying. A last ditch effort was made and we potted up the little, fragile seedlings to see if the new soil would help them take hold. The hundred seedlings were soon down to twenty-five of the healthiest specimens and we had to compost the rest. I watched them diligently, hoping they would somehow make a rebound before the planting day.

    After just two days, they grew in leaps and bounds. I thought I had killed them. I thought I had pushed them to the absolute limit with neglect. But that little mite of life was still crouching inside them, waiting for the chance to spring back.

    Gardening always surprises me in this way. I suppose that is the message of this particular post. The resilience and potential of life in all respects seems unfazed, undeterred.

    This post isn’t about how to grow tomatoes, it’s about how to kill them. We are always good at that part because it is easy. The path we have taken toward growing hundreds of pounds of produce is littered with the trial-and-error plants we have killed along the way. Each year we kill more tomato plants. Each year we end up harvesting more than we did the year before. The dead and dying plants are evidence of effort, a testament to our attempts. And that is what people must do: fail all the way to success.

    You look at your collection of withering seedlings on the shelf and you think it’s over. You visit your garden beds and the grasshoppers have helped themselves to everything but the bare stems of your herbs and tomatoes. Dejected and hopeless, you are ready to give it up. But some part of you still clings to that image of the harvest at the end of the season. You’d like to give up and go home but you make one last push. Always that last effort. You keep going, you keep working.

    A half dozen farming phrases, dripping with stoicism, come to mind. “Oh, well.” “Tomorrow is another day.” “Moving right along.” All of them mean one thing. Just keep going.

    The leaves are stripped and brown in the sun but you keep watering the beds anyway. The seedlings could not look worse but you pot them up anyway. It may be stubborn persistence or stupid hope but you keep doing the work in spite of the conditions. Somewhere along the way, that mite of life catches and you’re walking through the lush and abundant world that seemed impossible not too long before.

  • Sowing Seeds

    Sowing Seeds

    New Beginnings

    While many celebrate a new year in January, the later part of winter is still marked with inactivity and darkness. The seeds are still sleeping in the frozen soil, the days are short and the nights still long and demanding rest. January does not always feel like the beginning of something new but the continuation of a season of pause, rest, and waiting.

    Personally, the year feels new when things grow again in spring. We seek to begin – relationships, work, eras of our personal lives. We celebrate freshness and renewal. The themes of spring’s natural movement are youth, clarity, expectation. And we reconcile ourselves to those natural elements with our own behavior.

    It is in this time of beginnings that I want to begin this project. I call it the Goodwork Almanac because it will follow the cycles of the year. It may also become a commonplace book to sort odds and ends, a journal to record the most noteworthy events, a scrapbook to document memories as time passes. I do not rightly know what it will grow into, for now I am just sowing seeds.

    There is no definitive separation between the end of one season and the beginning of another. They blend around their edges. Perhaps there is a day in March when the sun comes out, or when the dirt at the edge of the yard is exposed from the creeping edges of the snow that melts back. And you say to yourself, “Oh, it felt like spring just then.” We take walks into the garden to see what is returning – the hardy perennials peek out of the frost and snow.

    Think of the “seeds” which you will plant in your life in this part of the year, the season of new beginnings. What thoughts will you allow to take root? What habits will you cultivate and what habits will you eradicate? The proverb says you will reap what you sow – the question asked of you by the very nature of spring is: what will you sow?

    If you plant complacency, you will harvest mediocrity. If you plant focus and commitment, you will harvest many successes. This is not only the time to plant tomatoes, peppers, and herbs for the coming months but also the time to begin new practices, new habits, and fresh plans for the future.

    What is the work that demands your attention? Are you meant for beekeeping, raising sheep, writing books? Are you here to help others through their darkness, create things out of wood and metal, or cook nourishing meals for a restaurant full of hungry people? Maybe you were meant to raise ducks, make cheese, draw cartoons, or push a broom. Only you can know, and only you can find your way to that path.

    “You owe it to all of us to get on with what you’re good at.” – W.H. Auden

    These posts will be a different kind of seed to spread. I want to discuss ideas, plans, techniques, and strategies to navigate this journey that we are on. I claim no professional status. I am a true amateur in all realms. By definition, an amateur is someone who does something for the love of it.

    At the end of the day, I cannot say there is a best strategy or a single answer. All I can do, as a gardener, is spread seed and see what comes up. A certain seed may not sprout here, at this moment, because the conditions aren’t right. Another may view it as the perfect moment to leap forward.

    We sometimes get caught in the mistake of thinking that life is something which happens, a mere event. But it is much more like a medium or a substance which we can explore, interact with, and develop. It is the raw material which we can use to create ourselves. The neglected field will grow just as much as the acre of carefully tended farmland – the difference is the effort and care exerted, the creation of a logical and measurable plan, the indulgence of a dream.

    The perfect strategy is the one that works. The perfect moment is the one we have now. The perfect context for beginning is the one in which we are forced to start.

    Most of all, these ideas I spread are ready for discussion and interaction. I think of the Goodwork Almanac as a forum for spreading beneficial ideas, useful thoughts, constructive discussion, and helpful stories that may inspire others to grow and move forward.

    Planning and Patience

    The early signs of spring are like a densely coiled seed which will eventually explode onto the scene with its usual clarity. First, it must be as small and undetectable as the first white roots in the soil, or the little ripple of light that moves out of the darkest months. The stirrings of life must begin somewhere, and they begin here.

    These things do not happen all at once. The day you plant the seed is not the day you will harvest, but one must begin in order to get to that harvest day.

    It is about humility. Accepting that beginnings are often ridiculous and inauspicious. “This little seedling is going to give me pounds and pounds of tomatoes?! Unlikely!” But it is true. Just as with other things: do not discount the ability of consistent growth and patient progress. (I view this as good advice in general but also a reminder to myself).

    The key is to remember. Constantly remember that this is your life just as it is the seedling’s life, and it is passing by with gradual change and miniscule degrees. It is spring again. How much progress have you made since last spring? How much growth would you like to happen before the next spring? Do not commit the mistake of turning your attention away from this growth, just as you should not turn your attention from the care of your seedlings.

    “The reward for our work is not what we get, but what we become.” – Paulo Coelho

    There will be many distractions. It seems that daily life is riddled with things that demand our attention and drain us of the energy we would like to give to more important things. A few minutes here and there spent in a state of distraction and resignation will add up. It gains momentum as a habit of ‘tuning out’, of forgetting, and eventually it may steal days, weeks, or months per year of your life that could otherwise have gone toward fulfillment, beginnings, organization, connection.

    These posts will also be about remembering the path we want to be on. I am not prescribing paths or espousing answers but merely saying “Hey, wake up, remember you have a path to take, a journey that is your own.”

    I have been lost and would not wish that on others. I have wanted guidance and encouragement and have found only work to do. That is how we start. There are already too many voices that proclaim that life is meaningless, that there is no point, and that we should give up. Even if no one were saying this out loud, the annoying voices in our heads would still repeat this false idea. Part of the drive of this blog is to repeat the message that your life is yours to create, that it can be filled with meaningful action and work, that despair and hopelessness are not the answer, that we can still build a wonderful and powerful life together.

    Practices and Meditations

    Plant ten seeds in little pots of good soil. If you cannot do ten, do five. If not five, then one. If you do not want to keep them, sell them or give them to friends and family as gifts. But it is important to see them and to know them as they grow in this part of the season. Plant the other “seeds” of your life as well! Start a savings plan, start going on walks every day, start smiling and using people’s names when you greet them. Little things matter, they grow into big things.

    Look for the first spark of color in the dirt, the first green tendrils resisting the cold, the first honeybee making its rounds. This is about paying attention. Time moves by quickly when we aren’t paying attention. If we cannot enjoy the little things in our lives, we most likely won’t enjoy the bigger moments either.

    The garden is just dirt at the beginning. It is somewhat unremarkable. We have to be content with being unremarkable when we begin, so we may give ourselves room to grow. Delayed gratification is a muscle we must exercise, a skill to learn, not a natural trait. If you keep your attention on doing the work, you will look up one day and everything will be flourishing just as you intended.