Trust the Process

A few years ago, I wrote a book, Inner Gardening: A Seasonal Path to Inner Peace.

Gardening has long been associated with spiritual practice. Medieval monasteries had their cloister gardens, green chapels of contemplation and renewal. Right now, I’m looking out my study window at my own garden, grateful for the sunlight-shadow patterns through the wisteria vines, the lemon and laurel trees, for what the poet Andrew Marvell called “a green thought in a green shade.”

Gardening teaches vital lessons: to be patient, to have faith in the eternal creative process. Years ago, my friend Pat, a gifted fiction writer, had a thriving garden on the balcony of her West Hollywood apartment–pots of herbs, lettuce, tomatoes, bell peppers, and onions. But when she planted an avocado seed in a pot, she grew impatient.

Weeks went by. Nothing. One day in frustration she dug up the seed to see what was happening. Then she found that beneath the surface the seed had germinated; a young seedling was ready to emerge. An important lesson–she told me her impatience had killed the plant.

In writing, as in gardening, a lot goes on beneath the surface. Creativity takes time. We cannot rush the process. A few weeks ago, I planted Kentucky wonder beans and set up teepees of six-foot wooden poles. For days, nothing. Then one morning a few seedlings broke ground, raising their tiny heads, reaching for the sky. This week their delicate vines have begun climbing up the poles. Finding their way by their own intelligence, they grow higher each day, spiraling around and around, ever upward. In time they will flower and bear fruit, all part of the creative process that includes you and me, our writing and our lives.

A key to creativity is faith in the larger process. What seeds are you planting now? What dreams are you cultivating in this season of your life?