"The truth is that our finest moments are most likely to occur when we are feeling deeply uncomfortable, unhappy, or unfulfilled. For it is only in such moments, propelled by our discomfort, that we are likely to step out of our ruts and start searching for different ways or truer answers."
M. Scott Peck
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The kitchen’s a mess. I have a million projects going at once. The loud electronic dance beats in the background don’t help, they’re only fueling the fire, enlivening and burgeoning today’s ambitious spirit while complementing the growing disarray.
Tea is brewing for my first ever batch of kombucha. The coffee grinder’s going, loudly spinning, filled too full, and spurting grounds. A host of this morning’s garden picks are strewn across the counter washed carefully of their garden dirt, diligently cautious not to wash away their sun-kissed delectableness. The water has just boiled for the coffee press, and has met the grounds to begin its delicious work. Jars are being sterilized in which to ferment the kombucha and grow the scoby (Symbiotic Culture of Bacteria and Yeast) culture. All the while, I’m writing, reading, online browsing, blog posting, stepping outside to chase the dog, and trekking mud across the linoleum as I coerce him back in with promises of goodies.
I return to the garden to pluck the weeds I missed in my early gloss for ripe veggies. The dog follows and exhibits a newfound nerve, stepping into the garden with me. He usually lingers just over my shoulder as I preen the plants and remove the unwanted guests. Waiting, suspended in readiness, he eyes the weeds in hand until I toss them into the tall grasses lining a contiguous creek. Off he goes. Retrieving the uprooted weeds, he runs around like a maniac tossing them merrily and feeling accomplished.
This has been our morning routine for some time now. Today, he’s feeling bored and musters the courage to go at it alone. He steps into the garden and goes right for the gold, pulling a large leaf from the outer layer of a head of purple cabbage. I hear the crunch of the crispy leaf and turn to see he’s escaping with purple foliage brazenly protruding from his muzzle. Proudly prancing away, I’m at first yelling my disapproval. Then, the comedy in his playful mischief has me thinking, what a perfectly contenting moment.
I’m enjoying the feeling of rain dampened grasses on bare feet, while reaping the rewards of my summer project, spending the day at home surrounded by creative endeavors, worrying less and less about life’s major concerns, feeling more and more emboldened by a sense of peace and self-assurance, re-animated with a fresh spirit of hope, and more than happy to share the cabbage. Life is more than ok, it’s perfectly balanced with free and nearby delights.
I’m jobless, uncertain what’s next, rejected by employer after employer, and approaching pennilessness. I could never have expected any of this, and that’s half the charm. I savor these surprises, because daily I’m staggered, made slightly dizzy by sheer befuddlement. I blink and shake my head, regain equilibrium, breath in, and smile. There’s no luster, but it’s more than grand.
I’m working on project after project. Writing copy for a medication management website, designing visuals for the recycling system at a green biz incubator in Detroit, planning a fundraiser for drought victims in East Africa, (all unpaid) and couldn’t be happier. Sure, I’m going to need an income stream soon. Until then, the dog can eat all the cabbage he wants because I’m more than pleased to have this opportunity to garden with him.
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