#9: planting garlic, sowing change

"Festina lente." (translation: "Make haste, slowly.") -the Roman emperor Augustus

Alt text: A photograph of a blue sky with a tiny sliver of silver moon, wisp of cloud, and dark tree branches.

It may not look like it, given the curious cresting of young daffodils through the mulch by my deck – but we’re deep into winter, and nearly a month into the new year. On a recent morning, I stepped downstairs to make tea and watched the sun spread over the few plants lingering in my garden: spinach, chard, and a scattering of perennial herbs, now lean and thin in the cold weather. In a low, square bed, I admired the thick green stems of the garlic I had planted in the late days of last October: Spanish Roja, German Shortneck, and Chesnok Red.

This is my first time planting garlic, so it’s been a learning experience. The soil needs to be ready, enriched with compost and tilled, before the first frost hits, so the wee cloves can go through vernalization. This is when the plants are exposed to the first truly cold temperatures – and believe it or not, it’s a necessary catalyst. Garlic must endure a snapping crack of cold to jolt it into growing.

It’s hard not to feel the metaphor there, isn’t it? Growing up, I repeatedly heard a certain type of message around suffering – what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger; no pain, no gain. The implication was that the ache and anguish would be followed by an award or advantage. Somehow, in ways perhaps yet unseen, the trial would be worth it.

There is a glimmer of truth in this, like a vein of gold flecked through a hard rock. Discomfort teaches us that the edges, boundaries, and limits of what we know and accept are being exposed and even tested. Experience informs us that this can lead to growth, if we let it. But I’d like to firmly redress the notion that suffering for success is normal or necessary. I posit that our introspection can be slow and compassionate; our development, purposeful and joyful.

Over the course of 2023, I decided to put that idea into personal practice. I slowly prioritized my health, happiness, and healing, and chose a meaningful metamorphosis over a constant push for progress. I share exactly what I changed in more detail after the jump, if you’re curious, but here are the big takeaways on how I did it:

• I didn’t list hard goals. To start, I gently acknowledged and explored areas of my life that felt bumpy or unaligned. When I needed direction, I asked myself: Why does this bother me? Why do I think this needs to change? What else might be behind this? This helped me focus on the right things.

• I didn’t set firm deadlines. I moved with intention, but without target dates. When my progress felt slow or stymied, I asked myself: Why do I feel pressured? What is hinging on this? What will happen if I don’t meet this moment? This allowed me to think and act more clearly, with less anxiety.

• I didn’t rebuke myself. I’ve been told I am my own worst critic, and I know I hold myself to high standards. So last year, when I felt down, I asked myself: What is the real reason I feel this way? What can I learn from this moment? What is the best way to move forward from here? This gave me space to pause and regroup, get unstuck, and roll with adjustments when needed.

All of this may sound counterintuitive. I get that. In my experience, certainly, the world tends to urge advancement at all costs, at all hours. People who can’t or won’t keep up tend to get boxed in, labeled, or ignored. All too often, they get left behind. 

But I’ve seen the results of doing things differently. Adopting these principles has helped me clarify, simplify, and amplify my steps. I made greater strides, and their outcomes stayed with me – not forcefully, but naturally. Perhaps most importantly, I know I can maintain this practice readily, rather than get mired between the movement and the muck. This year, and for years to come, I hope to honor that.

Below, I’m sharing a deeper recap of what my series of changes looked like, as well as what I plan to do in February, and a reflection on how we each might ease into what’s next. Enjoy!

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Things I (slowly) changed in 2023:

I nurtured my relationship with my body.

Over the summer, I visited a nutritionist and learned how to feed myself properly. I gave up coffee, alcohol, fast food, and most sweets to reset my gut and my dietary habits. (Side note: I don’t miss any of them at all, and the stomach issues that have plagued me all my life have disappeared.) I began cooking three meals a day, almost every day – mostly quick, simple setups that were easy to make and used only a handful of ingredients – so I could be more conscious about what I was consuming, how it was prepared, and how it made me feel.

Starting in the spring, I walked a little more than a mile with my husband every weekday morning to improve my health and feel more connected to my new neighborhood. In the fall, I set digital wellness timers on my phone to reduce my screen time, and began to host monthly video calls and text regularly with a few friends to stay more closely connected. I pressed pause on talking to my therapist, and focused on listening to myself.

I invested in my creative interests.

In August, I founded and formally launched my coaching & consulting business, giving clear shape to the work I’ve been doing as a side practice for more than a decade. I set up an online shop, took a deep breath, and publicly offered, for the first time, prints of poems that I’ve been writing for nearly a decade. (I happily sold a few!)

I dug further into gardening and built four more raised beds, for a total of six – shoveling and shifting, by hand and by wheelbarrow, three cubic yards of topsoil from my driveway to my backyard. (Unfamiliar with that type of measurement? I was, too. Allow me to be clear: It is a dense, heavy mountain of soil.) I bought a sundry bunch of seeds that I’ll begin to sow in February for a broader range of bounty. And I began to learn about canning and storing what we grow, so we can enjoy our small yard’s largess all year round.

I focused on living joyfully, and removed the extras.

Over the course of a few intense months, I donated more than 150 pieces of clothing and culled my jewelry. I reorganized the linen closet; I cleared the kitchen cupboards of what had been unused for years. I pared down my skincare regimen, and cleaned and recycled the empty bottles and pumps. I swept out the shed and stored my gardening supplies. As the holiday break dwindled, I worked with my husband to tackle our basement, piled with boxes from our move three years ago, and cleared out bagfuls of garbage and recyclables. Perhaps most meaningfully, I welcomed progress over perfection, and I feel more aligned with my husband on what we will tackle together next.

I realigned my life with my values. 

According to the psychologist Adam Grant, “Character is more than just having principles. It’s a learned capacity to live by your principles.” I looked back at years of my life where things felt out of sync and realized it was because my principles were not being honored. This was the most significant shift, in a way, because I had to put shape to what my values were before I could make sure I was living in step with them. But it also provided the most clarity, and allowed me to diagnose more briskly where I needed to evolve.

I stayed honest with myself.

This was especially important as I considered my future. Nothing felt beyond the lens of asking, What do I need, and what do I want? What do I need to change to support the life I’m choosing for myself? But perhaps more importantly, nothing felt beyond an honest answer. I’m carrying that earnest approach with me into this new year, and beyond.

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Things I’m doing in February:

• Planning my garden for the new growing season. Prepping my trays and seeds for sowing. Daydreaming about wildflowers and glass gem corn.

• Reading “The Wiley Canning Company Cookbook” (a holiday gift from my husband), and considering how to put my new canning knowledge into practice.

• Beginning the necessary processes to renew my passport and global entry status.

• Working on the design of my book of poetry. (The editorial pass is complete!)

• Learning how to make a great cup of matcha tea (also a holiday gift!) with almond milk.

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Prompt:

I’d love to hear about your plans for evolving and growing, whether it’s a new year’s resolution or a simple acknowledgement that you’re ready for a change. How can you ease into this gently and purposefully? What might that look like for you?