The Garden of Giving Up

The grayscale of a photocopied sheet A magazine clipping here A comic strip there An inspirational quote printed in large serif letters resting on the pillow of my childhood bedroom Your fervent paternal need to share wisdom, to deliver the message in whatever way you could. You raised me to believe that I was capable of anything “Never, ever, ever give up”
you always said I, on the other hand, have come to understand that I can’t have everything that in order to make space for what’s truly important to me
I must give up, let go.

My product manager brain, trained to separate the must-haves from the nice-to-haves, from the out-of-scopes Prioritizing saying no a crucial piece to making anything happen at all There are times when throwing in the towel, when moving on is the right move.

Still, I hear your persistent, “Never, ever, ever give up” echoing in my psyche Your eternal optimism welling up inside me even while rolling my eyes in teenage annoyance. I think I figured out why that phrase bothers me so It’s the implication that “giving up” is a form of surrender telling yourself you’ve lost the battle before it is over Well, I’m done with war metaphors And if I am capable of anything, it is a healthy reframe.

I’ve started gardening recently here in this Land of Sunshine and Rain I’ve found that, sometimes, letting go means making space for something new to grow There was a strawberry plant I tried desperately to save not understanding why it refused to take hold This morning, I noticed it out of its pot laying shriveled on the ground My first thought: “But I can save it!” My second: “But why? Why force this particular plant to live when it is so clearly meant to die?” So, instead of re-potting it per my initial instinct, I planted a cucumber in its place placing the desiccated berry leaves in with the soil that they may turn to fertilizer and nourish the cuke’s roots. I buried blind optimism, exchanged it for the hope of new beginnings I will not pretend that the strawberry is alive I choose to accept reality on reality’s terms rather than live in the fantasy that the strawberry survived.

Instead of “Never, ever, ever give up” I choose to believe: “Sometimes you’ve got to allow to wither and disintegrate that the nutritious molecules be sublimated into something new.”

Sometimes, it is in giving up on what is believed to be true that allows an opening of room for the truth standing right in front of you. What might we grow, right here, right now, in this world with the soil and the climate and the tools that we’ve got? Quite a lot, I’m convinced.

I’ll be over here in the backyard ripping out the weeds pruning what no longer serves If you are down to get your hands dirty If you are OK with getting rained on If you are willing to tear down the rotting tree You are welcome to join me.