When the Work Diminishes, What Do I Cultivate?

I’ve spent my life growing my garden. Or you could say, I’ve been landscaping to display my purpose. I’ve wanted to flourish physically, socially, financially, and emotionally. To cultivate an acceptable identity.

Now I’m tentatively examining my soil, “What's causing this growth?”

For five decades I’ve carefully tended an identity, filled with new start-ups, new careers, new relationships, new adventures. I wanted to show people the wonderful flora I’d nourished.

“Pretty good garden, Grayson.” Nice. I like when people tell me that.

We live in a culture that curates gardens. We’re especially fascinated with youth’s energy, possibility, and physical vitality. Enamoured with perceived standards of success in a world where identity is calibrated by achievements.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for my business life, it was satisfying and honorable. Although there was an awareness of personal costs, relational sacrifices, I loved the excitement of overcoming challenges, and succeeding.

But I'll never forget how I felt when many of my accomplishments came crashing down into what I viewed as a worthless heap.

Struggling to survive around decline and decomposition, I’ve anxiously worried myself into retirement. Old age has pressed in on me, like a blanket of weeds. I’ve found myself ruminating over what I've achieved, “Maybe I’ve left the best years behind me.”

All of life's unavoidable failures and trials have stretched my garden’s capabilities. Acknowledging both wins and losses has coaxed me to turn my attention internally, “What’s inside? What’s in this soil?”

Not interested in building an active career measured by goals and roles, I muse, “Is there more meaning…is there more to look forward to?”

In response, I hear a faint encouraging voice from deep inside my soil (soul); “What’s beyond mortality? How do I offer a lasting legacy, beyond these things I have?”

Yes, it’s a slow and sometimes painful evolution occurring in the muted soil. There’s a deeper, broader sense of calm in the quiet days. It’s rewarding, beautiful to consider – that deep in my soil there’s a restful centre.

A faltering authentic self hesitates, then whispers, “I can simply offer myself to others as I am. I don't need to build my life around my knowledge or achievements.”

Turning outward and attending to the world, I listen.

It’s often surprising that wisdom grows in this hushed soil that gives grace to those around me. Yes, I’m discovering that resting, without having to prove my flourishing gives me a greater capacity to listen to you, and perhaps even to the Divine.

What about you? Is your relationship with career, health, and even family, fading?

Maybe there's an invitation to find the real “you” in your soul. I hope that somewhere deep inside your soil, there’s new growth being nurtured.

I would love to connect with you on LinkedIn or Facebook.

See you next week,

Grayson

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