Dig Deep

DIG DEEP

"(Every man should) plant a tree, have a child and write a book. These all live on after us, insuring a measure of immortality". 

- attributed to the Talmud and Jose Marti, Cuban revolutionist and poet. 

My book is in a box under my bed. The child...well, it´s rather complicated for me. But to plant a tree, now that I can do and I did today. In fact, I planted several trees; among them a pear, an apple, a loquat, a mandarin and a peach. When I was a child, growing up in inner city Leeds, we had an allotment but I have no firm memories on growing produce. Until this particular juncture in my life, I´ve only managed to grow tomatoes on window boxes but now things are different; now we have land that can be used for planting. 

For as long as I can remember I´ve always imagined owning a house in its own land and my dreams were very specific. There had to be old stones and there had to be water. When we stumbled upon our new home, first online and then in person, by bouncing along the country road that is its approach, in an urban car designed for tarmac, we knew it was ours. We love the way it sits firmly at the edge of a flat valley, flanked by olives, on the banks of a river beautifully named as The River of Silences. We knew we had found home; our place of solace and peace; the place where nothing else matters. 

But as many journeys in life, the road hasn´t been an easy one. There were many dark days when I thought it would never happen, when I imagined that the dream would simply slip through my fingers and it would forever remain a figment of my own overactive imagination. That´s why every single time I drive home, I breathe a deep sigh, often stopping the car to let the thankfulness seep in. 

So today, as I was preparing the holes to plant the trees, I has this thought; that we have to dig deep through the rough times and rely on our resolve. We must seek the support and laughter of those that really love us and cherish those we love and hold them close. For there are days that merely getting out of bed is much more than a momentary act of the will and more like an endeavour that seeks to diminish us and keep us down. It´s on those particular days that we must dig deep and remember the understanding words of the wise and the guidance of our peers and make sure we remove the brittle stones of fear, insecurity and low self-worth, so there are no unexposed dark corners to hide beneath. You see, for a tree to stand strong and firm, there must be a significantly deep hole so the roots can develop and spread. All rocks need to be removed and then carefully, oh so very carefully, the empty spaces around the roots should be filled in with good, robust and decent soil, packed down and watered by a gardeners deft hand. There are so many factors dictating healthy growth; sunshine, water, wind, air and animals all play a role in the either healthy blooming of a young tree or else the demise of a weak sapling that fails to take root. Humans, just like trees are dependant on so many factors that they´re impossible to list. It´s a delicate and complicated journey that requires skill and learning and many of us have felt (and still do feel) ill-equipped for the job. 

But today it became apparent to me, more than ever before, how important it is to dig deep and prepare for the future. If we are not committed to our eventual growth by making sure that all the above mentioned factors are taken into account, rather than skulking away from the responsibilities of our true self, then we will not blossom into the people we were meant to be. If we do not look after ourselves then we will not bear fruit. 

So on this day, I am reminded of those bleak days, when I had to dig deep. When I had to keep the shadows at bay and trust in a blind future. When it was only the love, support and understanding of those that love me that enabled me to clear the path towards this, my happy and healthy future. 

Now all the trees are planted, the rains have come to settle them into their new surroundings. Nature takes over now. All we know how to do has been done, so all that remains is patience to wait gently until the first apple ripens in the autumn sunshine. 

Manni Coe  May 9th 2016