Growing up with a mother that loved to garden, I became quite familiar with different household and domestic plants. When I was younger, I saw gardening as something that was done to make the house and yard look nice. As I grew older, I began to see the appeal of a hobby that temporarily removes you from the world and puts your mind on a meditative task. Something that makes the world fall away and all that is left is you and your task. I never found that in gardening, though I eventually developed an interest in various plants and flora.
It wasn't until the beginning of last summer that I decided that I wanted to grow some plants of my own. After some thought, I decided that I was going to grow a tree. I wanted something that would grow and change over time; something I could come back and look at decades later and see how it had changed and developed. There are plenty of fine species of trees that are commonly found in upstate New York, but I decided against any indigenous plant. Tying my resolve to grow a tree with my love for the ancient world and ancient history, I decided to purchase seeds of the Lebanon Cedar. These now threatened trees are native to Lebanon and Turkey and were used extensively by the ancients for building homes, temples, and ships. It is because these trees were so prized for their lumber that they are now threatened.
As per the instructions on the bag the seeds came in, I soaked them in water for 24 hours before planting them in a variety of different pots. As the summer progressed, I would come home from work each day and go to my pots with the hopes of seeing progress. Eventually, 3 strong seedlings emerged from the pots. I gave one to my parents to keep at home while I was away at school and I took the other two with me. At first, the cedars I brought to Binghamton were doing well and growing. But as the year progressed and the sun began to fade for the winter, my cedars started to die. I was dismayed at the thought of my plants dying and did my best to keep them alive, though I was ultimately unsuccessful.
I came home for the summer from Binghamton yesterday to find my last remaining cedar seedling. As I looked at my last little tree, I began to see my trials with the Lebanon Cedar as a metaphor for life. As we grow and change, we go out into the world and try new things, take risks. Sometimes the new things work out for us and sometimes they don’t. That’s okay, it's a part of the process. But I think it's important not to put all of your metaphorical eggs, or seedlings in this case, in one pot. As you grow and change, sow new seeds in unfamiliar ground; try something new, walk a new path. But beneath it all, lay seeds of greatness. Spend the time to plant within yourself strong principles and maxims that will serve and guide you throughout life. If you are diligent with this, even if your new seeds don't take root, then you will have a strong tree to come back to.
