We naturally think of early autumn as a time of harvest. Vermonters are still locking their cars so no one leaves zucchini on their back seats. But fall is also a planting season.
My hollyhocks and their biennial cousins are dropping their seeds, knowing the soil is fertile at their feet for next year’s adolescents. Farmers are planting garlic and winter wheat. Trees are setting buds for spring leaves even as they drop their becoming-brilliant foliage, mulch for roots that feed their fungi.
The first day of school has come and gone. When I worked with children after school, the staff was careful to name our intentions for the year, the seeds we wanted to plant in young hearts and minds. As we gained experience, we asked the kids to help us refine this process. Shared learning intentions are more powerful than adult-generated goals and objectives.
I will never forget the year the children told us they wanted to learn what appropriate behavior is. Quite a number of them were being told at school, “That’s not appropriate,” code they understood for “You are a bad boy or girl.” In the course of the year, the kids helped us to answer their own question. Those children are adults now. I see some of them modeling the very high standards they set for themselves. They are reseeding my hope for the future.
Much of the news these days is discouraging.
Who sowed the seeds of climate change, and who continues to fuel the wildfires, drought, and hurricanes every time we put gasoline in our cars? Humans do this, and there are many millions more of us every year. how sentient are we really? When will we own our power of choice?
When will we embrace the possibility that our collective wisdom is better than any one person’s or group’s opinion? When will we learn to ask ourselves and each other the ancient and still radical questions of life, and when will we learn to listen to the answers?
Who planted the seeds of the horrific violence in Afghanistan many generations ago, and how did we water those seeds with what we thought were justifiable intentions? Americans might ask ourselves that question in numerous countries around the world and here at home. We could turn to one of America’s favorite poets for guidance. Rumi lived in the 13th Century in what today is Afghanistan. In “The Dream That Must Be Interrupted,” Rumi said, “All doubt, despair and fear become insignificant when the intention of life becomes love.”
Let’s begin by holding the intention to live love, the highest standard of behavior I know. Living love requires making difficult choices in every moment often with abundant forgiveness. I am the only person I have the power to change, so it has to begin with me. We all have to be willing to “go first,” to lead with love. It takes practice in solitude and community.
What seeds are you planting this fall?