I’ve been thinking a lot about seeds lately …
I’ve also been incorporating butterflies into my work more, and wondering about an area of my creative life that has remained dormant for many years, that has recently, without explanation, become alive again.
(More on that another time.)
So more broadly, you could say I’ve been thinking a lot about transformation, and what it really takes to grow and change.
But seeds … they’ve been used as metaphors for transformation countless times, but right now it’s like I’m seeing them for the first time.
Will you humor me for a moment and pretend like you are from another planet where things just appear fully formed, out of thin air?
I want to tell you about an acorn in this way. Ready? (You are an alien. A cute one.)
See here, in my hand: this is an acorn. It looks almost like it’s made out of wood (foreshadowing?)
— a small oval orb, that comes to a slight point at the end.
On top, like a well crafted custom hat, is something called a “cupule” that protects the body of the acorn (or, what it carries inside: all that it needs to become something entirely different).
Now, I know this will sound crazy to you. Unbelievable, really. But this little seed, if it is lucky, will one day become that.
(I am pointing to a mighty oak tree near by. Your narrow, pointy jaw DROPS.)
But they look nothing alike, you say.
I know! Who would have ever thought? You have a million questions.
I don’t have enough answers.
So much of this is a mystery to me. Yes, we know about acorns and the pollination and germination processes … but in very simple terms, it’s like this:
An acorn seed that somehow avoids being eaten by an animal (this is just 1 in 10,000, I have recently learned), burrows into the ground.
It goes down to a dark, still, lonely place.
It wonders about its true purpose in life (not really, but wouldn’t you??) and whether it will ever be anything more than just a seed that looks like every other seed.
“What could a little sunlight bring forth from me?” it says aloud.
But … silence. No one answers. No one hears (or so it thinks).
But just when the acorn is about to give way to despair (it is always darkest before the dawn), something breaks and opens and pushes toward the light.
It’s a new shoot! Something it had no idea it even had inside it! “Was this the plan all along?” it asks. I’m a sprout! This is my life’s purpose! It says this, rejoicing.
But do you know (I’m talking to you now, my new alien friend)? It’s not even close to what its purpose is.
It is meant to be a grand oak tree, strong, beautiful, and awe-inspiring. It still has a long, long road ahead of it.
But the thing about acorns is that, well, it actually has zero chance of reaching its full potential if it refuses to surrender to the creative process …
If it refuses to face the darkness. If it refuses to wait any longer. If it refuses to just try and reach toward the light … well, then it will for sure just become squirrel food.
My alien friend, this is all that I’m really trying to say:
Every part of the creative process is crucial. There are no shortcuts. And every piece of the puzzle is connected, and there for a reason: a larger purpose.
I asked in a Patreon poll yesterday this question: if you were a flower, or a tree, where would you say you are in your creative journey right now? (Don’t overthink it.)
Of all five answer choices, no one chose (so far) “I’m feeling good: I’m reaping the harvest of a long struggle”.
It might seem like that is the ideal answer; the “right” one. Or maybe a rare answer, or even an unattainable one.
But I just want to say that: (I don’t actually think of you as an alien from a far off world) you are no different from a seed.
No matter who you are, what you do for a living or don’t do for a living, where you live, or any other external factor, you are a seed.
And as a seed, no part of your process is stagnant or unproductive, even if you are just sitting quietly somewhere contemplating, say, an acorn.
(Seeds do better with long periods of silence and stillness … just saying.)
If you saw my poll, maybe it felt like there was a hierarchy of answers; like it was somehow worse to be “in the dark” than “a sprout that’s just poked its head up”.
But the creative process is not a tower or a ladder. It’s a circle.
And we all have to go through it in all of its messy phases, over and over again.
But it’s also not a one dimensional circle.
I like to think of the creative process as a spiral. Every time we complete the creative cycle, we are stronger and better for it: more prepared to go through it again with just slightly more awareness.
Wherever you are in the creative journey: be encouraged. You are headed somewhere even if you have no idea where. Just like an acorn.
And because we are humans and not aliens or seeds, the creative process should be a communal one. You don’t have to figure out your path alone.
There are books and friends to guide us, music and art to inspire us. Wherever you are in the creative process, someone’s been there before, AND: you won’t stay in that spot forever unless you are in a place of refusal.
But if you surrender … well, what would a seed say is the good of that?
I have more thoughts about seeds. I kind of want to tell you a crazy story, too … but that will be for Part II.
For now, pretend you are from a far off planet once again: do you have any questions or observations about acorns? I would LOVE to hear …
