Keep Watering The Plant

I have a sign on my desk. A message written in thick black marker that stares me in the face:

Keep watering the plant.

It’s something Alan likes to say. He’s a gardener; he embodies its most literal incarnation. But I find it fits most things in life: career aspirations, creative pursuits, new adventures. A gentle reminder that things that take time take effort, and things that take effort take time.

I need this verbal kick-in-the-ass on a daily basis, which is why I keep it front and center. I’m in it for the long haul, whatever it is. But I’m prone to the self-doubt that seeps in around the edges before progress fills the void. 

Some days I crave the plodding sort of progress that incrementally arrives. A discernible end goal and a measuring tape that can be stretched from the here and now to the there and done. But there isn’t any. There’s just a mushy gray cloud that hangs in the air in front of me. Some days that cloud condenses into a torrent of progress. The flood gates open and it bursts forth when I’m least expecting it. But other days, it’s just one more step along a soggy path.

I try to remind myself of the real plants that get watered, and how long they take to bear fruit. The satsuma tree in my studio took three years to form two tiny oranges, and this year has five. The first fruits were such a stark reminder of the power of patience that I never could bear to pick them. Or the apple tree in the orchard that after six years of becoming a slightly larger stick finally got its first apple last summer. It was kind of lopsided and a little green around the edges, but then again aren’t we all.

Keep watering the plant.

I try to remind myself. Even on the slow days, the cold days, the shut inside for days days. All the days matter, when it comes to care. And when care comes, consistently, we flourish. Eventually. Just, keep watering.