I don’t believe people change, but like trees, we GROW. A sapling doesn’t change into a magnificent oak, it matures into one, fulfilling its destiny, becoming what it’s meant to be, growing stronger and healthier, but only if well-nourished. When I cracked the nut on my suffering and began this journey, I visualized a seedling emerging from a split nut, stretching toward the sun, seeking sustenance. This is often how I think of myself, although I am no longer a vulnerable seedling. That’s because I actively seek growth opportunities. I’m not content to stop learning and experiencing, and therefore improving. I recognize that it’s okay to be under constant construction, to be a work in progress.
A beautiful dogwood stood in full bloom on our property when my husband and I bought our home. Over the following years it bloomed less and less. It never occurred to me that it needed nurturing until the willow in my front yard died entirely. I fed the dogwood last spring and it bloomed magnificently once more, eager to reach its full potential.
With even the most minimal effort, we are guaranteed stagnant growth, just as a simple result of living, until we eventually deteriorate and die, like my dogwood surely would have. But we have the power to cultivate our maturation with proper food: books, travel, conversation, interests… opening our hearts and minds to new experiences.
We need the pursuit of self-actualization. It is what drives us once our physiological, safety, and belonging needs are met. This is why so many people experience what is often referred to as a “mid-life crisis.” But I don’t think it’s a crisis at all! It is the profound realization that life is pretty good and you’re ready for something more! So people think of things they always wanted to try or see or learn and they seek those things out. This troubles those who are stuck or unwilling to expand, but I think it’s all part of a healthy growing process. When we’re ready, we begin to branch-out like trees.
Just because I am eager to continue growing does not suggest I am unhappy or overly critical of myself. Like my dogwood, I experience rest and rejuvenation phases, preparation phases, growth spurts… sometimes I’m gorgeous and vibrant and sometimes barren and shivering in the cold. But I do not stop growing. I shed and grow a thicker skin like bark, and continue to absorb that which is best for me.
As I watch nature awaken from its wintry slumber this early spring, I am reminded I am a magnificent work in progress. So are you.
