Students don’t garden. We will be leaving soon, moving on. The mantra, “What happens in Moscow stays in Moscow” could be quite fitting for the expected lifestyles of students.
In the college experience — a time of limbo — there seems no point to planting seeds or to establishing roots. “Real life” is something that exists in the distant land of real jobs, real homes and perhaps even real relationships.
Despite this norm, the idea of planting seeds has become a conscious choice for me to live in such a way as to create a future beyond the university.
Creation infers an art. A work of art requires committed practice. It is a way of being that places precedent on each action and choice, each day, as being habit-building and formative.
The idea of planting seeds has been directly contrary to my deepest beliefs of non-attachment. This stage of life in particular — late teens and 20s — was supposed to be a time of experimentation. It was a time to fall down, get up and fall down again. It was a time to be an explorer in all the facets of the word.
I am not saying I don’t believe falling down, questioning and exploring are valuable parts of life at any age. They are in fact what make the human experience beautiful. They are the parts of life that make us grateful for the times when things are relatively sunny.
But the way we look at how the idea of being in limbo perpetuates in youth culture, it leads us to overestimate the supposed value of these experimental years and how they are perhaps a little overestimated. This idea says to college students that just one night of a few too many beers doesn’t count. But of course, one night turns into many nights. Many nights become a habit. It says that eating unhealthily now is just because we are poor college students. When we finally reach the real world, of course we are going to eat, exercise, read and organize time well.
But after a few years the same habits persist because a lifestyle is not something easy to break.
The lure of those things conventionally seen as detrimental to habit-building — sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll or whatever it may be — are not the only things standing in the way. It is far too easy, with three assignments due and a test the next day, to push to the side spending time eating a meal, going on a run, having meaningful conversations with friends and family or taking a bath.
But to be honest, I would rather be a successful person, holistically in life, than get three more questions right on that test — while yawning all the way through. Making everyday decisions to live well and take care of our bodies and minds is the most important thing we do. Like I said earlier, the art of habit-forming requires practice.
Gardening is also an art. Much of its practice is in its patience, and in enjoying each new growth and each step along the way. In fact, a garden will never be “complete.” But with fostering, it can be beautiful — It can provide nourishment to the hungry, give shade and rest to the tired.
It, like a life lived well, will always be teeming with new growth. But something like this will never be “achieved” if viewed simply as a goal. It begins with planting seeds — fostering friendships, habits and lifestyle choices. And then these seeds will need to be watered. Every day.
This may sound a little tedious. But really, how tedious does an evening of going for a run, having a bath with a glass of wine, cooking homemade spaghetti, calling an old friend and spending one hour of quality studying sound — as opposed to a night of cramming? It doesn’t sound too bad to me.