Monday is my favorite day of the week, but I woke up a little frustrated this morning, a little down because something I was working on in my business just wasn’t moving fast enough. I’d been thinking and working toward it for so long, so when this idea arrived, it just seemed so right, so needed. I launched it. Got some little bites, but mostly: crickets.
On a call this morning, after I laid out my little tale of woe, my coach asked, paraphrasing her husband,
“What, you launched that 2 hours ago and you’re mad that it’s not sold out yet?”
Um, yes. Exactly. So we made a little plan on the call, came up with action items for me, and I felt a little better about it all. But still, truth be told: a little despondent. So I did the thing I felt I needed most: I went outside into the glory of springtime.
I planted the sweet peas I’d set out to soak overnight, into the bed I’d prepared for them on Saturday, amended with our amazing compost. I spied on the bees, so very busy in the warmth of this last day of February, being careful to stay out of their flight path back to the hive. I tidied up some paths around the garden beds, putting clean sawdust from my husband’s business to good use, keeping down weeds and minimizing repetitive boring chores. I stood around and stared for a little bit, standing still in the birdsong and the fragrance of blooming Pawlonia at the entrance to the farmlet.
As I was placing the tender little pea seeds into the soil, I re-read the promise on the back of the package, Days to Emerge: 10-21. Given I'm planting them today, then, doing the rough math in my head, bouquets sometime toward the end of April, probably. That's a full two months from now.
Maybe our hobbies are medicine.
Gardening is, like being an entrepreneur, an exercise in co-creation. More fundamentally, it is an act of PATIENCE. And TRUST. After all, what seed bursts forth within a couple of hours? In gardening, I know that things take time, and steady care, that Good Things Come To Those That Wait. Um duh, maybe this is just what I need in my work. A little more patience (er, a lot more), a little more trust (ditto), and that same steady care.
What if the hobbies we choose are actually the perfect medicine for our dominant modus operandi?
Actually I don't know about /choosing/ hobbies. I feel like I have no more control over what my hobbies are, the stuff I love passionately, than I have over the squirrels who truly own our farmlet. I just love these things I do -- gardening, beekeeping, composting, writing, etc. -- because I love them. But now I wonder. Now it occurs to me that maybe they play a deeper role in the unfolding on my life.
Maybe our hobbies are no accident.
Which is why hobbies are so important. Letting your curiosity take you, following where it leads. It occurs to me this morning that hobbies offer us the exact remedy, the perfect respite, from how we generally operate in our day-to-day. Refresh us, make us better in a way we could never anticipate. In the perfect way, actually.
So now, yes, I have a plan of action thanks to Susan, and also I feel completely OK with how things are unspooling in my business right now. Because being outside reminded me, served me up the lesson I most needed at the perfect time in the gentlest of ways.
Patience. Trust. Time.
Good things come to those who wait. And keep doing the work. :)
As you're planning this week, how can you make time for your hobbies, for the things you love for no other reason than that you love them and they bring you joy? It might seem like that hobby-time is not advancing your business, but I promise you, it most certainly is, operating at a deep level, delivering the medicine you most need. When's your hobby-time?