The Shamrocks are Back

Sometimes it is as simple as having needed a different environment. 

Music by Scott Holmes - A Wee Tipple 
Non Copyright Music

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:09

Right outside my door, on my small porch, there's a white ceramic pot filled to the brim with the shamrocks growing within it. Deep green triangular leaves, ever responsive to the changing of the light, opening, then folding up, depending on the time of day or the temperature, and small white flowers that surprise at times. I came across these shamrocks close to a decade ago and instantly took a liking to them. It might have been because it reminded me of a trip taken when I was twenty-three with a friend, and a saying on a t-shirt that to this day brings laughter. But what I really noticed about them was their responsiveness to what was going on around them. The way their leaves folded up and opened. They preferred to get drenched than left alone to dry. They preferred shade with a bit of sunlight. And it seemed to me whenever I changed their location, they flourished. Change seemed to be good. Over the last several years, my world, as I knew it, suddenly came to an end. Well maybe not suddenly, but over a period of years it began to crumble. Except I didn't recognize it as crumbling, but simply as a difficult period that would hopefully pass. And if I could change who I was somehow, then it would be okay, because that must be the issue. I just wanted too much. But after trying many things, including almost a decade of therapy, something by the way, that I will forever be grateful for, and was fundamentally changed in my approach. And having experienced deep goodness and gained a greater understanding of my life as a result, even that did not stop the crumbling. The methods, the coping strategies that I use to live life, being helpful, trying harder, accommodating, pushing myself to be patient, to wait longer, work harder, listen more, talk less, be more loving, more kind. The weight of it all, the weight of responsibility, for everything around me just became too great. And there came a time when I could no longer hold up under the weight of all of it. And the world as I had lived it came crashing down. Some of it was running out of strength. I could do nothing else but let go. Some of it was suddenly understanding that there are different kinds of death, and the recognition that there are some deaths that occur and part us long before we die. Some of it was knowing the choice before me was to allow the real parts of me to die or to make a tough call, not knowing what the outcome of that tough call will be. Some of it was because I was beginning to recognize that my choices had been made out of false beliefs about myself, about my role in the world, and what I believed I needed to be to earn love. And some of it was seeing the look in the eyes of my children and knowing I needed to live in a way that one needs from a mother. And as it often happens when life falls apart, simple daily tasks became very difficult. I had to push through to go to work, to come home, to do anything, and everything around me suffered, including my shamrocks. I no longer cared much, rarely paid any attention to them, and they began to wilt. I watered here and there, out of guilt mostly, but eventually there was nothing left of them. Just simple dirt in a pot. I rescued them a few times when one of my children added it to the small heap of unused flower pots, or wanted to use the dirt for something else. I knew about their rhizomes and the potential for regrowth, but I was unable to bring myself to put the effort forth that would encourage that growth. What was the point? They mirrored the state I was in, dormant. All that could be seen was just plain dirt. Recently, one morning, I was sitting on my small porch in the quiet morning, when I suddenly noticed those shamrocks across from me. About a month or so ago, I had moved them outside in a corner on the porch, giving them shade, then began periodically drenching them, and then leaving them all alone. And little by little they began making their appearance, pushing up through the dirt and into the sunlight. And that morning, as I sat there, I noticed just how large the deep green leaves had grown again, the white flowers, all of it just sitting there, overflowing over the edges of the white ceramic flower pot. They were beautiful, and I smiled. And then suddenly, out of nowhere, I felt the whisper within. See, they just needed a different environment so they could flourish. And immediately the tears fell as the shame I tend to carry about where I should be by now, what I should be able to accomplish, fell away. I knew this message was for me, from my heart. You see, context matters. Environment has a big role to play, and I am so hard on myself, most of the time without even realizing it. Those shamrocks just needed a different environment, and that carries across to so many areas. That friendship, that family, that marriage, that team, that project, that spiritual community, that employee, that idea, that calling, those gifts, that ability to love, to speak, to dream. That teenager, that man, that woman, they just needed a different environment. Make no mistake, we have a role to play in tending to the environment within us, how we think about ourselves, how hard we drive ourselves, and how we punish ourselves when expectations are not met. And who we are, what we are like, impacts the external environments around us every day. While there are certain things we can do to make our environment a little better, we're simply not responsible for the whole thing. We cannot control another person's decisions, how they think about themselves or about us. We cannot control another's willingness to show up or how they choose to see and respond to the circumstances in life. We cannot control what they bring to the table and what they don't, and what kind of environment their presence and who they are creates. Sometimes it's just that simple. And twisting ourselves to adapt or make up for what the other refuses to bring, cannot bring, or doesn't value, that is simply not sustainable. If I took my shamrocks and placed them in direct sunlight, they would die. If I neglected to soak them, then leave them alone, they would disappear. If I didn't plant their rhizomes in the dirt they needed, they would never appear. When the environment is right, the shoots will naturally grow, the leaves will naturally appear and will fold and unfold, ever responsive to the changing of the light, just like you and I. So here's to shamrocks and less shame, here's to whispers and a little more freedom, and here's to the hope for rich, nurturing environments that cause all of us to grow.