CFC Blog #18: Water Your Lettuce

The following piece from Rob not only touched my heart, but left me with a more positive vision for what's to come this year. I often get anxious in the beginning of a new year knowing that I am going to have to make some serious changes and fix bad habits. However, Rob's piece leaves me feeling more excited to focus on improving the strengths that I do already have. I think that perhaps sometimes we have to give ourselves more credit for our many capabilities, and find pleasure in adding to their betterment! Thanks Rob for some encouragement, and Happy New Year everyone! :) 

- Amanda

Water Your Lettuce

It was a bit of a rough holiday season for my family. The day after Christmas we had to say goodbye to our beloved Golden Doodle Daisy. I’ll say this: cancer sucks. But, as she did for her 12 years on this earth, Daisy made things as easy for us as she possibly could. It was as beautiful, and immensely sorrowful as anything we’ve ever been through. Because of their unrelenting and unconditional love, there’s a saying that has been around for some time that says “we don’t deserve dogs”. I don’t know if we deserved Daisy or not. But I do know we are infinitely better humans because of her.

One thing that this time of year brings are resolutions. I was reading an article on Statista, and the top two 2018 resolutions in the U.S., by far outstripping all others, were “save money” and “lose weight or get in shape.”  But whatever the resolve, no matter how trivial or profound, what I find is that I have tended to think of them in terms of something we want to fix.  Our resolve is to repair something that we blame ourselves for breaking.

Blame. This year, in particular, I found myself doing that in spades. 

Over the last few days, after Daisy said goodbye, I have found myself reading philosopher Thich Nhat Hanh. In his wonderful book, Peace Is Every Step, he discusses where we typically focus blame.  He says, “when you plant lettuce, if it does not grow well, you don’t blame the lettuce.” He then tells the story of when he finished one of his lectures, in which he shared this example with his audience, he overheard a girl saying, “mommy, remember to water me - I am your lettuce.”

And, then I had this question:

What if, as we create our new year’s resolve, rather than dwell on our perceived weaknesses and blame, we resolved in some part to foster and feed our strengths?

Daisy was our lettuce. We watered her. And of the few resolutions I have this year, my most important is to try and amplify my talents and strengths, and water the lettuce.     

Happy New Year.