I don’t know that I would have ever compared my life at this stage to a stalk of celery. Yet, here I go.
My last post, as you may recall, waxed poetic on resurrection vegetables, like this celery- new life, food!, growing from discards of the old. Please, gentle reader, review that post and catch a whiff of that wonder and passion. I hope you actually tried it!
Though my garlic is going strong and all my seeds are germinating with the paper-towel method (a post for another day), I am not here to talk about all of that just yet.
I am here to look at this humble celery, the mascot of this blog for the season, and show you the wonderment of this phase of life.
Let’s get past the obvious comparisons in this allegory:
- New life from something you would throw out; new life at an age when all the societal images makes you feel discarded.
- New food- for free!; new hope, for no charge.
- Old and crusty on the outside, young and green in the middle (no translation necessary).
So you can see where this gets interesting, right?
But when I look at the growth of this humble celery in the past 10 days, I marvel at how it is starting to really come along. The leaves are there, the stalk is growing stronger. Even though all it has right now is water, it is apparently thriving. It literally appears to be taking its strength it needs for its growth solely from itself. Just as we can! We women of a certain age don’t need someone to come along and sprinkle flattery fertilizer upon us for us to start our day. We work sick and we work tired. We are told we are too fat, or too old, or a dog that can’t be taught a new trick, but yet we do. We go back to college. We take up a new hobby. We cuddle our children even when all we want is a glass of Apothic Red and a blanket.
WE are the ones that nourish all those around us- from our children to our husbands to our companies and our friends. WE are the ones that get dinner ready, bake for a school fundraiser, perform an competitor analysis or program the next phase of AI. We do all of that with the sniffles or pnuemonia. We will draw eyeliner onto lids still swollen from crying all night and still hold down the fort. We nurtured children in the womb and out. We serve our nation on the front line in uniform and in the shelters that help those who have no hope left. We do all of that on the experience of our years and the strength of our persona. We dance in glitter and walk in cowshed and we do it every. Single. Day. We do it because it needs to be done.
We do it because we can.
We do it because we are that young celery stalk, green and strong, rising from the crusts of ourselves, cut down to a couple inches of our former glory. We are that young stalk alive and present, growing to do it all, all over again.
This is the winter of your rebirth. Take ownership of what you already possess and do what you have been brought into this world to become.
This is going to be an interesting year, my friends.