"The older I grow, the more I distrust the familiar doctrine that age brings wisdom." -H.L.Mencken
"Don't go through life. Grow through life." -Eric Butterworth
Here's a solid fact: I love a good new year's resolution. Nothing beats that crisp, clean, turn-of-the-page feeling I get at the start of a new year, and I'm always game for a challenge, a motivation, a dare, if you will, to make my life just that much better.
But at the same time, I'll be the first to admit that I have no idea what is good for me.
If there's anything life has taught me, it's that it's full of surprises. And I'd hate to miss out on any fantastically serendipitous new things that may land in my path because I'm so fixated on wiping down my bathroom counters every night or preserving my streak on Duolingo.
For a couple years now, I've struggled to reframe my resolutions so that instead of blinding me from living in the moment, they'll open me up to whatever is happening around me on any give day.
So this year, I've decided that my new year's resolution is to grow.
Whenever my second-born comes to visit, she's got a nice long list of interesting things for us to do. In December, near the top of that inventory was a trip to a new greenhouse.
Well. It's not so much a new greenhouse as a new-to-the-public greenhouse. At her alma mater, University of Washington, the Department of Botany decided to open up their learning labs to the world - at least on Thursday afternoons - and we gladly stopped by for a sneak peek.
Now I've strolled through my share of plant stores, greenhouses and conservatories, but this was like nowhere else I've been. Oh sure - there were plenty of green things growing in a steel and glass box.
But without the constant pressure of (a) asking myself, "Should I buy this?" or (b) reverently adoring the plants from a safe distance while keeping my hands very much to myself, the atmosphere here on campus felt casual and comfortable.
These are working greenhouses. The plants get plenty of hands-on love and attention from their students and we, the public people, are very much trusted to treat them with that same loving respect.
I mean, how could anyone not lovingly gaze at these fuchsia fringes and marvel at their delicate hold onto their leaves
Or respect that massive Jabba the Hutt base of this enormous ponytail palm that is apparently trying to digest my daughter? These plants are full of miracles.
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And so this year, I will trust myself to grow. I'll marvel at the delicate places where I hold onto life, and I'll lean into the massive places of deep trust.
And I'll expect to see miracles.
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Read more about my 2022 Christmas celebrations.
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