One day during meditation, a year after Werner moved out, I received guidance to get a temporary job in a plant nursery. That seemed unusual to me but I had learned to listen to my Guides since they always led me to something valuable.
For many years I had purchased my plants and flowers from a local nursery and, interested in learning about them, had gotten to know Rudy, the owner, quite well. Each spring I had bought large amounts of different varieties of beautiful flowers to fill our front and back yards to overflowing.
Rudy was quite surprised when, in the gray cold of January, I drove up to his nursery in my old Mercedes and asked him for a job. He scoffed at the idea, telling me it was hard work and that he paid his employees $3.00 an hour. He said, “This is not the job for you. It is physically demanding. I hire kids to do the seasonal work, getting ready for spring sales. They start in late February, and I lay them off after July Fourth.”
That time-frame sounded perfect for me as my children were in school until late June. I told him I wanted the job, but he still said, “It’s not for you.” I asked him for the names of his competitors so I could inquire elsewhere. He gladly gave me the names of the two he knew best.
I went to each of them and both turned me down. I am not sure why, but my guess is that I didn’t look like I fit the job description. Returning to Rudy, I again asked to work there. This time he said, “You are really serious, aren’t you?” I told him I was, and he offered me the job.
Having no idea why I was doing this, other than trusting my guidance, I began work near the end of February. My workmates were women half my age, yet we got along well and had nice times together.
Our first task was to plant six rows of seeds lengthwise in 18” x 24” boxes, labeling each one. Hour after hour we planted tiny seeds into countless boxes. After planting we carefully fed them with small amounts of water. The process required very little thought and was quite meditative. We had some pleasant conversations and frequent long, comfortable silences.
Nurturing Growth
Weeks later the seeds began to germinate, sprouting from the soil as fragile, delicate, silk-like threads. We carefully transplanted each shoot into a compartment of a plastic six-pack. There were hundreds and hundreds of these six-packs. Small varieties remained in the six-pack, but all those that would become larger had to again be transplanted into 4” pots months later.
The task of transplanting went on through March. Day after day there were more plants to move from six-packs to pots, water, and place in one of the seven greenhouses. By this time, small leaves and buds were showing, growing closer to the mature appearance they would eventually have. I found myself interested in their differences and enjoyed tending them, watching them mature into themselves. It was as if they were developing from fetuses to infants to beautiful children.
By the end of March all seven greenhouses were filled with pots of flowers. The owner purchased many larger varieties from other suppliers: hanging baskets of fuchsia, hibiscus, impatiens, begonias, and salvia, spreading color through the greenhouses. Days were easy and quiet, with much less to do. Just the few of us worked daily in the nursery, peacefully watering thousands of gorgeous flowers.
By April the nursery felt like a wonderland. It was a delight to see new flowers profusely popping by the hour and showing off everywhere. Beautiful and plentiful, they were a balm to my senses. Reds, whites, yellows, oranges, blues, purples, greens, all in varying shades of intensity. The space was now miraculously filled with them, a sharp contrast to the vacant, cold, bare structures I saw in the darkness of winter. I began to understand why my Guides suggested this experience. Bringing me back to nature gave me a tranquil place to be, using my energy to nurture growth while being nourished in return.
Mother’s Day weekend came. Beginning at 8:00 on Saturday morning, dozens of cars poured into the parking lot. By noon there were no parking spaces left, and long lines waited in the driveway. People crowded the aisles asking many questions, trying to decide what would be most beautiful for their gardens. Most were considerate and gentle, but some were aggressive and demanding.
Hour after hour, the cars arrived empty and left filled with plants and flowers. By the end of the day the greenhouses felt picked over, like they had been pirated. By Sunday evening large, vacant spaces of bare concrete were visible where gorgeous flowers had been just two days before. Every weekend was like that through the Fourth of July. Life at the nursery was busy, fast, noisy and hectic. Plants and flowers were stored in trunks and backseats with tall ones poking through open sunroofs. I felt sad. The owner was delighted.
The Creative Stages of the Life Cycle
I thought about my guidance. What was this experience all about? The nursery was an exquisite blueprint of the life cycle fast-forwarded. My Guides had directed me to quickly experience its creative stages: inception, gestation, birth, fragile early development, joy-filled nurturance, and robust and beautiful maturity. Then letting go. As if watching an animated film, I saw the stages of life unfold within four months.
My job at the nursery was a wise model for life and parenting. The time comes to let go. We all have to let go even though it is hard. With all the care I gave these plants, they now had their own place in the world. They graced my life for a short time while I fed theirs. Though I did not yet recognize it, this experience was a source of wisdom that I would use in my future career.
When the job ended, I invited my four children to dinner in a fine local Italian restaurant. I had saved three of my $97.50 weekly take-home paychecks for this event, wanting to celebrate my step toward independence. It was the first time we would be out together as a family without their Dad, and I was proud to be hosting them with money I had earned.
My children had no idea how much it meant to me to provide this meal. They seemed relaxed and happy, chattering away, by now used to being with each of us separately.
While they enjoyed the dinner, my mind was in the past. As I sat at the head of the oblong table with an empty seat facing me, I felt heartbroken. It was strange how much of my attention that empty space occupied. While I was on my way to creating a new version of myself, in those moments I profoundly felt the cost of my divorce.
Although I no longer had to deal with the pain of living with Werner, there was heartbreak, long-lasting heartbreak. I was mourning the death of my broken family structure.
Letting Go
After we got home and the children went to bed I thought about my pain. I recalled my Guides’ message that we go through many deaths in life before our physical bodies pass. I remembered sitting with Lizzie the night her first puppy was taken from our home. I thought about how it felt on Mother’s Day weekend at Nabel’s as the plants I had nurtured daily for four months flew off the shelves. I felt the grief of ending my marriage after giving so much energy and attention to what was now just a memory.
Although I felt heartbroken, I was growing, even though I didn’t know what direction my life would take. We prune plants so that they can be healthier and more beautiful; I was doing the same by simplifying my life—meditating, running the house, taking care of my children, and staying open to guidance.
A new, unfamiliar, and happier expression of myself was emerging. I trusted that with desire and patience I would create satisfying new beginnings.
Article Source
Soul Selfish: The Awakening of a Good Girl
by Jane Wyker
Jane Wyker’s memoir Soul Selfish shows the way to happiness comes from within instead of looking to others to supply it. Jane remained a ”good girl” into her mid-thirties, bent on pleasing others in the hope of receiving love. This all changed when she embarked on a courageous and passionate inner journey that led her to ownership of her talents, self-reliance and self-love.Through insightful and spiritually uplifting stories, Jane invites us on her passage from “good girl” to empowered woman, as she slays the personal demons that many have yet to confront.Let Jane’s journey inspire the possibility for you to become soul selfish, ever more willing to connect to your truth — your soul.
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About the Author
In her memoir, Soul Selfish: The Awakening of a Good Girl, Jane Wyker shares the vast experience of her 46-year inner journey. Working in over a dozen disciplines, she had the courage and faith to follow the guidance of many teachers and, ultimately, her own soul. Now 82, and still learning, she models a life prioritizing happiness that sources from within. A graduate of Cornell University and former elementary school teacher, Jane was a pioneer in parent education. This led her to her Family Counseling practice that dealt with marriage, parenting, self-development, career and loss. She presented seminars in Fortune 500 companies, raised four children, managed a thriving career and pursued her own spiritual growth. Jane saw that when selfish enough to live from her soul, love and wisdom flow. She believes that is true for all of us. http://janewyker.com/
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