Weeds in the Garden

As I stood in the doorway, cup of coffee in my hand, wanting... no, NEEDING to go out to the well house, (which, next to the bathroom, is the closet thing to privacy I get here) and jot down a few flickers of creative thought.... she continued to read out adds for yard sales, planning out this week's "hunt", I guess, and bitched about how they were all too far away or uninteresting.  Then, as she finally noticed that I was standing there with a cup of coffee and a notebook, I explained that I needed to go write down a "few thoughts on a writing project that's been "shelved" for years....she made some disparaging, self-deprecating remark about she had no creativity, and it turned into ten minutes of a pointless pep-talk about how I felt she had to get out of her own way, and change her attitude, and work on cultivating what I call the "Huh.  That might be neat." factor.  Which, of course, she then argued about and said she couldn't reach "that state".  To which I responded, "You could, but you have to let go of judgement and expectation first."  I then wiggled my way out the door.  Finally having a few moments to myself, I stared at the painting I started 3 days ago, that I now don't even remember starting, nor where it was going.  "What was I going to write?"  All my creative energy has been drained away.  I am held in a position of Not Succeeding, so that she does not have to be reminded of her own shortcomings.

I think that the root of so many of my blocks (creative and otherwise) stem from how much I devalue/disregard myself.  My inability to "pick a major" back in 1992 was the result of this.  I asked these constant, insecure questions....  "What does GOD want me to do?
  What would be the best choice, given my abilities, to allow me to do the most good in the world?"  I never considered what I wanted to do.... What filled my heart with passion.  What energized my soul.  And now, 20 years later, I have found myself struggling with the "concept" of "Forgotten Gardens".  For a long time, I thought it should be a book, speaking out about ecological, environmental subjects.  "I could CHANGE THE WORLD with this book!"  But, every time I tried to work on it, I realized that I was trying to pull a masterpiece out of a starving soul.  The accounts of my two years on Stinchcomb Road are buried deep within, and are afraid to come out.  What would people think?  I already know that my mother thinks I "never should have had that house in the first place", so what business do I have, doing what I wanted to do during 2009 and 2010, and go running into the street in the middle of a rainstorm, shouting to the world that fairies are real?????


Some of the greatest weeds in our creative gardens are the expectations placed on us by other people, which are fed by the expectations we place on ourselves.  I "should be more giving/forgiving".  I "should get a Respectable job", and earn an Honest Living.  I "should do something responsible and not spend so much time daydreaming, or puttering in the garden, or playing with the dog".

What will people say about me if I die next week?  "Oh, she was SUCH a good LISTENER!"  Yep.  That's been my badge of honor all my life.  I'm a good listener.  What's it gotten me?  Middle aged, with no clear idea of who I am or what I want, having accomplished embarrassingly little of what really makes me happy, and with an ever-increasing feeling of frantic guilt.  "I'm not 'there for' my family enough.  They could be dead tomorrow and I have not done enough or helped them out of the quicksand they've intentionally stepped in.  I have not done something really great to contribute to society, or the environment, or to a spiritual pursuit.  And WHY is that?  Because I'm SUCH a GOOD LISTENER!  I am listening my way to an early grave!  I am neglecting my Own garden, to try to pull the weeds out of this person's garden, and water that person's garden, and maybe sew some new seeds in this other person's garden.  Meanwhile, my own is withered.

Take some time this week, to consider where the weeds in YOUR garden are. 

--

Erin McRaven

 

Bucksnort Farm & Art Studio

 

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