Gardening and other miracles

Miracles grow where we’ve made room for them

This week I’ve been gardening and processing miracles. A teacher I’ve learned from for years, Sarah Faith Gottesdiener, reposted me to their Substack 3x3 (about nine things they love, lately). This coming week, I’m going to meet and work with a NYT bestselling author who changed my awareness (and my life).

Both of these things, a year ago, would have seemed inconceivable to me. In some ways, typing them out and reading them still seems unbelievable, but is making them feel more real at the same time. Being seen by two humans I thought would only ever be far-off celebrities is no longer unachievable or a “someday” thing.

I feel as if I’ve jumped timelines.

The only reason I felt these things impossible in the past is because I was far away from myself.

Rather than choosing fear and staying small, I’ve been choosing different, lately. I believe that I made space for these miracles to happen by being open, by signing up, by showing up, and by telling the world who it is that I am.

I’ve been trusting what I know before I know where it will lead.

I've been thinking about this while gardening.

I bask in the sun, communing with the sprouts and my epiphanies.

I open holes in the dirt to repot my tomatoes, telling them this new home will be good to them. They will have everything they need with the sun and the rain and this new, bigger soil. I pull weeds away from my budding pepper and cilantro leaves as I face my wounds and the lessons I haven’t quite learned.

The weeds are reminders of my humanity — old habits, old stories, things I once thought I couldn’t change.

Last year, it was hard to tell the difference between the baby sprouts I’d intentionally sown and the ones that weren’t mine.

This year, that part’s easy. I know the shape of the cilantro sprout from the purslane weed. I know what I’m growing now.

Let’s take responsibility for all of it:

the weeds,

the tending,

and the miracles.

XO,

Brittany