I started my garden extra late this year. Usually, I’m ready to go as soon as that first warm day hits in the spring. This year, there’s been such a push for me to go slower, to follow the timing that feels right instead of what society, family, friends, colleagues, and/or my ego deems right. Some lessons returned over and over again. Others took a few hours or a few days to settle.
One particular theme that continues to surface is fear. Some of the questions I’ve been grappling with include: What are my fears? Why do they exist? Where or who did I pick them up from? How long have they been lodged in my body and where do they like to sneak in and settle? When do they come up and how much of that can I work on? What patterns do I notice when looking at all my fears laid out? What fears am I in the process of letting go of? What fears recently popped up that I never knew I had? What are my fears trying to teach me? What lessons did I learn from confronting old fears? And on and on…
This past weekend, I was out hiking and started to give myself a pep talk on fear. I was encouraging the few versions of myself that are still stuck in the automatic worse case scenario programming that they need to let loose for all versions of myself to move ahead into abundance. I reminded them that they told me they’re ready to move ahead, so now it’s time to stick to that and do one of the most engrained tactics humanity struggles with: embrace my power and become my most sovereign self.
I reminded myself when fear was helpful, and when it led to more panic, anxiety, worry, and stagnation. I let myself name all the moments and past lives where fear ruled, what the results were, and where I’m continuing to relive variations of those patterns by not trusting or considering the most abundant, joyful, love-filled version of that same situation.
My garden reminds me of all of these things. I can either get upset that the tomato plants shot up right through the netting I put around them and feel guilty for not tending to them earlier in the week, or I can say sorry to the leaves and stems that fall off, rewire everything, and give them more room to grow. I can either get upset that aphids found my pepper plants once again, or I can remove them and pray they won’t return. I can either get upset that some of my plants aren’t showing flowers, or I can thank those who did for all they did and myself for trying a new style of gardening. I can either get upset that the deer found my bed, or I can accept they need to eat too and share the wealth. I can fear failure and do nothing, or take baby steps towards understanding the lessons all around me. The more I embrace the possibility of the best outcome, the more little miracles pop up all around me (like new tomato plants popping up in between the basil.
Integration is messy, hard work. That’s why I think a lot of us either avoid it, ignore it, or try to rush through it. Any combination of those reactions return us back to the original issue at hand until we really embrace the lessons fully – with self-forgiveness, self-love, and self-understanding.
There’s so much to come still on a collective cleansing level, and the push to really, truly learn this lesson is so loud, repetitive, and for those of us ignoring it even the slightest bit, annoying.
For those that may be seeking something to hold onto during this time, here is the mantra I repeated throughout my hike. Feel free to change out words or phrases as it feels appropriate.
“I release all programming, beliefs, values, past and future lives, and current storylines that prioritize pain, suffering, shame, guilt, and negativity. I choose to live a life full of abundance, joy, laughter, love, miracles, and community. I am worthy of this beautiful life.”