Update on my 2023 theme

I'm wondering if this will be my life theme

Trivia time!!

Do you know what the official flower of New York City is?

THE DAFFODIL!

Yeah, wouldn’t have been my first guess either, but if you look around the sidewalk patches and park meadows right now, you’ll see bajillions of their little yellow clown-heads reaching up toward the skyscrapers.

After 9/11, the City of Rotterdam sent NYC a million daffodils. That fall, 10,000 volunteers planted the bulbs in every borough, beginning the Daffodil Project which now honors victims of Covid-19 along with 9/11. And thus, we’ve adopted this bright symbol of rebirth as our city’s flora of choice.

I love thinking about the dear people who plant thousands of bulbs every October as an act of generosity toward their (our) future selves in March. I also love thinking about what else might have been planted in the fall that is just now beginning to bloom: an idea? a relationship? a hobby?

I consider January 1st to be Planting Day for the bulbs of hope that will grow throughout the coming year. When I chose my theme for 2023, I had all sorts of ideas about what it might look like to continually remember I have everything I need, but I was curious about how it would evolve as life got up to its old tricks: throwing curveballs and sneaking in surprises. Life has been doing a lot of that already in 2023, and my theme is now blooming all over the place.

Here are five of those blooms:

1. Tending to my own garden

One of my resolutions for 2023 was to commit to a volunteer job, and thus I’ve been helping folks take care of their pets through PAWS, which has been nothing but nonstop joy.

I’m lucky enough to walk this darling little fluffball, and even luckier to get to know her owner, a supremely elegant artist whose chats have become my weekly highlight.

The artist and I were having a chat the other day, and I admitted to the grief I experience almost constantly when I tap into my awareness of just how hard life is for so many people and so many animals. I told her that I’m naturally optimistic, yet I’m immobile with dread when I feel into the pain of the world.

The elegant artist leaned back, and in her smooth British accent asked, “Do you know the story of Candide?”

“Er, uh, remind me,” I replied in my lumpy American accent.

She told me, basically: Candide and his buddies traveled the world and ended up suffering in all sorts of ways: persecution, shipwrecks, earthquakes, smallpox, starvation and torture. But they more or less survived, and ended up in Turkey.

When they got to Turkey, they heard about all sorts of drama happening in the capitol city (assassins of leaders, that sort of thing), and everyone was running around like chickens with their heads cut off.

But Candide & Company happened upon an old man who was chilling peacefully under his orange tree, and wondered how he could look so unbothered (and probably moisturized, hydrated, etc) in the midst of political strife. He answered:

I have no idea what you’re talking about; my general view is that people who meddle with politics usually meet a miserable end, and indeed they deserve to. I never bother with what is going on in Constantinople; I only worry about sending the fruits of the garden which I cultivate off to be sold there.’

Then, he invited the boys inside for a meal of:

several sorts of sherbet, which they had made themselves, with kaimak enriched with the candied-peel of citrons, with oranges, lemons, pine-apples, pistachio-nuts, and Mocha coffee… – after which the two daughters of the honest Muslim perfumed the strangers’ beards.

(Doesn’t this all sound DELIGHTFUL??)

Candide tells the old man that he must have a ton of land and riches to grow all this:

I have only twenty acres,’ replied the old man; ‘I and my children cultivate them; and our labor preserves us from three great evils: weariness, vice, and want.’ Candide, on his way home, reflected deeply on what the old man had said. ‘This honest Turk seems to be in a far better place than kings. I also know that we must cultivate our garden.’

So, “Tend to your own garden,” my artist friend said. That’s how you remain optimistic and helpful.

The sentiment reflected my theme I have everything I need.

Including Prospect Park in the definition of “my own garden”

Like Candide, I’ve gone to far corners of the world in order to understand the pains of other people and arrogantly offer my insufficient help, only to return in despair.

The wise chilled-out Turk would say I don’t have to do all that, but I have to keep walking dogs and scooping cat litter for my more vulnerable neighbors.

While I think “Put on your oxygen mask before helping others” has largely become a catch-all excuse for self-centeredness, this back-to-basics garden-tending image has invited me toward greater generosity in a more manageable circle.

I used to get messages on Instagram asking why I wasn’t posting about a certain current event, or publicly performing some political stance. With a petulant huff, I’d silently stew, “Why don’t you do something useful toward that cause instead of angrily messaging a total stranger!?”

But I see that same hypocrisy in myself, over and over. I have spent far too much time and energy judging others’ behavior, when there are so very many ways I could spend my one wild and precious life instead:
-spending time with an animal
-writing a letter to a friend
-enjoying a moment in nature
-checking in with a loved one
-cleaning up my local park
-chatting with a lonely neighbor
-tending my garden

When I’m looking around for people to judge or worlds to change, I have everything I need. Right here. This garden. Let the work begin with me.

Sunny, a master of tending to her own garden

2. Managing envy

Recently, I found myself very very jealous of one of my friends. (Something new and different for me!)

I had it in my head that my friend and I received the same rewards, but I was doing more work. I was envious that she would seemingly stumble into good things, whereas I had to put in all kinds of effort to get them.

Then, another friend of mine mentioned the story of the Prodigal Son. I had to dig deep into my memory of 2nd grade Sunday School to remember it, but the gist is:

A man has two sons, and a whole lotta riches. One son asks for his inheritance early, and with it he goes off to party and hang out on yachts and buy Taylor Swift tickets and other things that people with a lot of money do.

The other son stays home and helps his dad out with the farm, and probably reads personal finance books during the commercial break of 60 Minutes. He’s very responsible.

Then, woops, the first son ran out of money and came crawling back to his dad’s farm to see if he could get a job there as a servant. (Imagine being your dad’s servant??)

Anyway, the dad didn’t hire the son to be a servant. Nor did he get mad that his son spent all his money on piñatas and designer loafers.

The dad just hugged his son and said “I’m so happy you’re home.” And then the dad threw a whole dinner party in his dumb son’s honor, complete with a “fattened calf” which I’m guessing is the equivalent of caviar and bottle service.

Return of the Prodigal Son, by Rembrandt

Meanwhile, the other son was PISSED!!! He had been so good all his life, saving his money and working on the farm and sorting his recycling properly and doing all the right things.

Obviously, he went to the dad and said “Hey why does my brother get to have all the fun and still get this warm welcome? Where’s his punishment? Why the fattened calf for HIM?”

The dad responds: “You are here with me always; everything I have is yours.” Basically: Relax. You have everything you need.

After reflecting on this tale, I was still annoyed, but I did feel a little better.

After all, I have the most beautiful life I could imagine for myself: I have daffodils blooming at my neighborhood park, and I have a cat who sleeps on my back, and my mom in the same city as me, and I have this newsletter which I get to write, and…

I have everything I need.

My mom’s apartment, always a place of abundant welcome

3. Resisting expansion

Speaking of this newsletter, I get a lot of emails from Substack about HOW TO GROW YOUR AUDIENCE.

And I find them extremely stressful, because they usually scream at me to do all kinds of things that I hate to do: be consistent, be brief, ask others to promote your newsletter, tie your content into current events.

AS IF!

I am literally tying my content into A BIBLE STORY!

And maybe you know by now: There is nothing consistent about me!

So I see these emails and I momentarily freak out and I think “DO I NEED TO BE MORE CONSISTENT?”

And then I remember: Why would I want to lure people into subscribing to my writing if they don’t actually want to be here? Why would I desire numbers over interested human eyeballs? Why would I offer anyone consistency when it’s not one of my values? Why do I feel any need to ‘grow my audience’ when my #1 goal is to care for the ‘audience’ I already have?

What is going on with a society that values GROW GROW GROW over TEND TEND TEND?

I have everything I need. You, Beloved Person Reading, are more than enough. More than I could have ever dreamed

A little writing desk that has never asked for expansion

.4. Following my own lead

This year, I started working with a health counselor who specializes in Ayurveda, the “mother science of healing.”

I’ve been tickled to learn that all the Ayurvedic nutritional guidance is what has come naturally to me my whole life; the exercise recommendations are what I’ve been drawn to for decades. My body knew what was best for me far before my logic did.

And yet, a part of me will habitually look into “proof” that Ayurvedic wisdom works. (To appease…the imaginary voice of my college logic professor who lives in my head, perhaps??)

I totally believe that science and intuition can benefit and learn from each other and the world needs both, but it’s interesting to me that I would seek out evidence to confirm what naturally, instinctually, effortlessly feels so good.

I have everything I need doesn’t mean that I’m not going to rely (heavily!) on therapists and authors and YouTube relationship experts to nudge me toward goodness, but it means that I’m not going to give my own power away to Google searches when I already know what’s true for me. Self-trust is a big one this year.

Self-trusting with pancakes

5. Staying put

I took my first yoga class when I was 13, and you best believe I thought I nailed it. I’d been taking dance and gymnastics forever, and yoga seemed like an easier version of both. This was going to be MY “sport.” Who cares if I can’t play volleyball anyway?? (I really cared if I could play volleyball anyway.)

It wasn’t until I was 29 that someone told me the truth about yoga. My teacher came up to me after class and said, “You know, your greatest strength can be your greatest weakness. You’re very flexible, so I see that you’re constantly adjusting yourself. Your challenge is going to be about how you stay in the pose without trying to go deeper.”

Years later, these words still echo in my head during every class. Just like the relentless tips from Substack on how to grow grow grow, my ego wants me to stretch until I hurt myself.

Your greatest strength can be your greatest weakness. I remember that when I identify something I do well, and get greedy with it: Let’s just go a little further! If I get complimented on my blond hair, I want to dye it a little blonder. If someone praises my cooking, I vow to make it more elaborate next time. Don’t even try telling me “You’re so flexible” if you don’t want me to show up in a full pretzel next time you see me.

The challenge is to stay. It’s enough, all that I do naturally. All that you do, naturally. Sometimes it’s more challenging to keep breathing right where we are, rather than straining to go a little further.

I have everything I need. It doesn’t need to be more than this.

Chiilllllllling

If you decided on a theme or word for the year, how is it going? Are you in a season of growing or tending? Have you ever had kaimak enriched with the candied-peel of citrons? Does your city have an official flower? I gotta know!