“The mind that opens to a new idea never returns to its original size.” Albert Einstein
Earlier this summer, I fashioned two raised garden bed frames from leftover wooden boards. They weren’t fancy but they did the job. I filled the 3 foot X 3 foot squares with compost from the compost pile and then drove to Home Depot to see what vegetable or fruit inspired me to plant it. I decided on cherry tomatoes, heirloom tomatoes, yellow squash, zucchini squash, and, with a spur-of-the-moment, “let’s see” whim, canteloupe. I’ve never tried to grow canteloupe before and I was curious about how they’d grow and if they’d produce fruit.
After the removal of a stubborn hornworm, the tomatoes thrived. I had cherry tomatoes in abundance and enough heirloom tomatoes to satisfy. After producing several squash, the squash plants were attacked by squash bugs, and even after a counterattack with insecticide (so long gardening sans chemicals), they could not recover. The canteloupe plant, though, grew over the edges of the raised boards and into the grass. Its vinelike tendrils stretched out and beyond. Its small yellow blooms dotted the green lawn like stars. I kept watching for signs of fruit but only found irregular heart-shaped leaves reaching further and further from the mother plant. One day, several weeks after planting, I saw a green orb, and then another, and another. I watched them expand and thicken, tucked among the leaves and grass.
It takes almost 90 days for a canteloupe to reach harvest. They are ready to pick when they start turning yellow on the bottom and the stems turn brown. I picked the first one last week but decided to let it ripen a bit more on my kitchen counter. I’m very curious as to what it will be like when cut. Will it have a flower-blossom sweetness or will it taste differently? Will it be dry or moist? Will the color lean yellow or orange, or the perfect in between?
I’m aware we’d like to know the outcome of our endeavors before we invest too much energy in them. Guarantees are nice, but don’t you sometimes enjoy the mystery of not knowing everything? Don’t you love the adventure of being curious and holding questions in your mind about how something will turn out? Don’t you sometimes enjoy the “might be’s” and “what if’s” and “let’s see?” I do. It’s the spice that can make life exciting.
I think we grow the muscles of our imagination and creativity when we step outside the box of certainty. Measured risk is good for the soul. I know that growing canteloupe is not that big a risk, but there are other areas of life where there’s more at stake. What if we sign up for a writing class outside the genre we usually write in? What if we join a new critique group? What if we reach out to a new agent, or a new potential mentor, or a new potential writing partner? What if we visit an open mic and share our work with strangers? What if we chase a random idea that entices us to engage with our craft in a way we never have before? Those scenarios might feel uncomfortable, but the outcome is not important if we move toward them with curiosity rather than expectation. It’s the act and the faith that matters. It’s the expansion of the mind and what we learn about ourselves when we push past our comfort zone.
My challenge to you this month is this: open your mind just a little bit wider and view your life from a higher plane. Be brave. Be curious. Ask questions and let yourself be surprised by the answers. Grow something you’ve never grown before and see how it tastes when you reap the harvest. It might have the perfect texture and the perfect sweetness. It might be a new joy you’d never have experienced without first daring to try something new.
Blessings,
Sandy