In May, I graduated from the school I had attended since sixth grade. I had deep, longstanding roots at that school.
In times of companionship, those roots were like the healthy roots that allow a sprout to become a tree. They allowed me to surpass my own expectations and grow in the general direction of the person I want to become.
In times of distress, those roots were like the destructive roots of an overgrown tomato plant. After a few years, reinvention
felt impossible. The crippling jaws of history left me trapped in the
same social patterns year after year.
After graduation, I was ready to escape from the roots that had enabled and trapped my high school self. In college, I could reinvent myself, unbound by my personal history.
I don't have any roots here. However, I cannot claim that I am unchained. My inhibitions, anxieties, timidity, and personality ensnare me in patterns of loneliness and self-doubt.
Still, I am never overlooked. There is always someone ready to greet me by name with a big smile. I can sit with complete strangers at meals and feel welcome.
This shallow impression of companionship doesn't satisfy me. I am tired of gathering factoids. Nothing short of deep personal connections will satisfy me. I don't want to consider loneliness an ineradicable fact of my life.
In short, I want roots. Without roots, courage is nearly impossible. If you are going to jump off the highest diving board without knowing how to swim, you need to know and trust the people who are waiting to catch you.
I am no longer the deeply rooted plant that was my past self. Instead, I am a seed.
For a seed, growing roots is a risky business. If seeds could think, I suppose they would think that they would always be seeds. "Why would I become something bigger?" the seed might wonder. "I'm already a seed!" Like the seed, I will have to abandon the carefully constructed visage that previously enabled and constrained me.
I can't imagine our thinking seed feeling any shame about being a seed.
The seed doesn't know anything else. It doesn't think "Gee, what could I
do in order to grow roots?". Instead, the seed relaxes and naturally
eases into the growing of roots. A true thinking seed would never feel the need to write this blog post; having never felt the tug of roots, it would never miss them. I must embrace being a seed in order to become a plant.
To become a plant, a seed must allow itself to be affected by the elements. A seed cannot say "I will not allow the water and sunshine and soil quality to affect me at all whatsoever" and expect to grow successfully. Instead, it must welcome the outside influences that change it from its original form. In the same way, I cannot pretend to be unaffected by the influences that surround me. When growing roots, it is okay to be sensitive, rather than trying to be tough.
Honestly, I don't know anything about being a seed. Before today, I awkwardly stumbled through the seed phases of my life in the race towards plantdom. The tangled roots that ensnared me were the consequence of my lack of mindfulness. This time, I will try to enjoy the seed stage before I forget what it is like to be unbounded.
