Sometimes, we are the loser. Not in everything. Not all the time. This does not indicate our entire life was spent being a loser. But there are times when someone, or something else wins. The question is not if we will lose at some point, but when we lose, how do we respond to it? A true loss would be if we never gained any insight about the situation or ourselves through the experience- if we continued in the same way without growth, thereby inviting another loss.
I went out to my ‘Big Herb Garden’ yesterday, and was overwhelmed by the monstrosity of weeds. By now you should be thinking, Amy, you’re an herbalist. You regularly spout the credence that there is no such thing as weeds. And while yes, I do find most plants out there do have some value, whether medicinally or nutritionally, sometimes there’s just weeds, man.
I have clearly lost control over my garden.
Lesson 1: Trying to exact control over something that is not truly mine.
With a sigh I began the ridiculous process of trying to pull out 2-3 foot weeds from almost half an acre of land. But you can’t just absent-mindedly pull out green, as fulfilling and therapeutic as it can be to aggressively reach, clench, yank, and throw. You have to identify each species to ensure it’s not one of your ‘on purpose’ weeds (haha), or one that might actually prove to be useful (ex: Plantain).
While starting this futile project with the mere fifteen minutes I had before heading to another appointment, I realized my irritation towards the weeds that had taken over were misplaced. The plants did what they were supposed to do. And, they seemed to be thriving. Nice. Now, these were not the plants I wanted, to be sure, but nature was doing its thing. Yes, they engulfed the California Poppy, and the thick carpet of Red Clover smothered the Holy Basil so that it never made it past the seed stage, but it is pretty impressive. The weeds won. They did their job better than I did. Oooooh, there's that hubris again. The land I live on and cultivate is a gift, a spirit and life of its own- not just something to control and manipulate.
Lesson 2: Admit defeat and realize my mistakes.
I lost this space because I didn’t put as much effort in as the weeds did. I took nature for granted. The Calendula is a powerful dude. It thrives all year, no matter what. He can take care of himself. I left it alone. They didn’t really need me. It rains. The sun shines. In spring when everything was clean and open and weedless, my plants were in tidy rows. I can go work on the other projects, the ones I don’t really want to do, and my plant buddies will be there for me when I need a break from the computer.
I put zero effort into this plot. The weeds put in all the effort- and it shows. Good on ya, weeds. You win this round. If I want to have a bountiful herb garden next year, I’m going to need to be present and maintain the space like I care, which I do. Time to walk the walk as I talk the talk.
Lesson 3: It’s OK to feel sad about losing.
We are going to be a loser sometimes. If you disagree with this, you’re delusional and I’m sorry. One of the problems with society is we are so focused on winning. Being the best. Working the hardest. Can’t lose. I saw this a lot as a teacher and felt I was often helping kids unlearn some of the behavior taught by their parents. If we only valued those that are ‘the best,’ we would run into a number of problems: 1- There is only one winner, and the rest of you are losers. 2- We learn to only respect ‘the best.’ 3- You will, at some point, be a loser, and won’t know how to handle it. I’ve seen too many Type A girls crying over their B on a paper, essentially losing their shit in the classroom. Dude. Toughen up. Fix your face and come back to class.
But being ‘the loser’ doesn’t mean you should numb yourself to the experience, or act as if it means nothing. When we place value on something it makes sense to feel the loss. If we didn’t care about it, it wouldn’t matter anyway. There is an elegance with losing. A grace. I haven’t mastered it, though I’ve had my share of losses this year. That Beck song has been in my head a lot. And I laugh. I own that shit. I mess up a lot. Sometimes it hurts more than others. But we need to spend a little time licking our wounds, learning from them, and keep chugging along. Or not. Maybe it’s time to shift gears. Even redirecting your choices or life is growth from loss.
So I’m bummed about my garden. I lost a lot of potential herbs that I could have benefitted from, and which I won’t have the opportunity to grow again until next year. That was my fault. I underestimated my weeds and overestimated my herbs, my time management, and my energy.
It feels good to go out there and rip out those awesome bastards. Occasionally I’m able to salvage some hidden gems, and even better, some wild varieties that I didn’t plant but totally needed. What a gift.
I certainly don’t hope any losses befall you, but it’ll happen. And rather than trying to navigate the situation perfectly, sometimes it’s better to ride the tide and see where it takes you. It may be the right fit, but you wouldn’t know without learning from the loss.
Sometimes, the weeds win.
And sometimes, we win, too.
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