I love plants. Notably, however, there are no plants in my home. This is odd, as I’ve spent the better part of my twenties trying to become a green thumb. The thing is, I’m really not that great at growing things, and eventually, after failing one too many times, I just gave up. I wasn’t the master gardener I dreamed I would be, so I let the hobby go entirely.
This makes me sad. Though I hate watching good money and little green lives go to waste, I do wish plants populated my home. I miss them. I dislike myself for giving up.
So lately I’ve been spending a lot of time thinking about following through. Too often I jump at an opportunity, self-made or otherwise, without actually considering what it will cost to arrive at the desired goal.
For of course, it is the end point I find alluring. Everyone, myself included, frames their goals and desires in terms of the outcome, not the work along the way. We say “I want to be thin,” not “I want to sweat my face off running in August and deny myself cake.” Or “I want a successful business,” not “I think it sounds really fun to painstakingly research and write a 50-page business plan, learn to market myself and be responsible for my own health insurance.”
I want to be a great gardener, not fail repeatedly, research carefully and slowly get better. The one sounds so impressive. The other so … human. Normal. Mundane.
But then, what makes me so special? So there you have it … I’m trying again.