Roses for Mum
At Toastmasters recently, I was given an interesting table topic about forging your own destiny. It provided inspiration for my final speech:
Plant your own garden and decorate your own soul, instead of waiting for someone else to bring you flowers
Of course receiving flowers is a wonderful thing, particularly for a woman. It can be a symbol of affection from a friend or lover, a sign of gratitude or recognition from a colleague or a boss; a timely reminder that somebody cares, someone has noticed you.
However, a book I read recently suggested that very few people go to the trouble to discover your favourite flowers or even your favourite colours beforehand, and you often end up with their favourite flowers instead of yours. So, without meaning to sound ungrateful, if you love a particular flower, perhaps it is wiser to buy your own.
‘Plant your own garden’ is a picturesque metaphor that reminds us we should never wait for circumstances or other people to shape our lives for us; that if we want our life to reflect our own characters and tastes, our own needs and aspirations, we must take control and plan it ourselves.
To extend the botanic allegory, here is a short story:
In 2001 we bought our first house in the UK. The house had been home to one large family for twenty years. It had good bones, and the atmosphere was warm and loving, but it was desperately in need of a little TLC. The previous owner had expended a lot of love and energy on the garden, however, and he gave us a tour of every plant and flower. There were three ponds – the children promptly claimed one each – a small greenhouse, an extensive rockery and a huge oak tree. I think we chose the house for that oak tree. It seemed only fitting when we were living in a town named after these stately trees.
Unfortunately we were not so fond of the flowers. I won’t describe them – they may be favourites of yours and I don’t want to offend anyone – but we liked neither the colours or the scents of many of the flowers blooming so enthusiastically. Despite feeling conscience stricken, we promptly went into over-drive to dig up everything we disliked and replant the flowerbeds with our own favourites.
Over the next six years we made huge changes to the house and the garden. I like to think the loving atmosphere stayed put, but we added rooms, converted the garage, redesigned the kitchen and gutted the bathrooms. I am afraid the previous owners would recognize nothing in the garden but the oak tree.
We made mistakes. I pulled up floorboards and flowers I later regretted throwing away so flippantly. We had to move a beautiful acer to accommodate the new family room, and the poor sensitive little soul never recovered from the shock. Yet the mistakes – and the satisfaction – were ours. By the time we moved on we were really happy with what we had created: a light, modern family home, combining – we felt – the best of English and Australian styles surrounded by a garden full of our favourite things.
In my own life, I have always been fiercely independent. I try to listen to advice, but I don’t like to let anyone make choices for me. Sometimes my decisions have been gut reactions rather than deliberate strategies, and occasionally I look back regretfully at where I may have made a wrong turn, but I have rarely felt trapped by decisions I failed to make. It is the times when I have drifted, allowing the winds to blow me off course, that I have felt most frustrated with life, and myself.
Back in the 1970s, feminist Colette Dowling suggested that thousands of us give up important life choices – career, money, power, freedom – to the whims of chance and circumstance. While Dowling was talking specifically about women, I bet there are plenty of men who are happy to sit back and let life take its course without ever grabbing the steering wheel – or rather, the wheelbarrow and spade. Passively waiting for Prince Charming to arrive on his white horse, or a Fairy Godmother to wave her wand to create the ‘happily ever after’ is unrealistic. As Dowling reminds us, there is no Prince Charming, no Fairy Godmother. It is up to us to forge our own destiny.
This can be both challenging and frightening. Many of us feel hampered by a lack of confidence, a dread of hard work or a fear of failure. How many of us think other people must find it easier than us, are born with more advantages, or are braver under fire? In truth, it is never easy, but the best results demand hard work, and realizing even a small dream builds confidence and self-esteem to take on the next challenge life throws at you. There may appear to be less anxiety in drifting, but is that living?
Dependency is like weeds, taking over your garden and smothering your imagination and your sense of self-worth. It makes you feel entangled in someone elses life rather than your own, out-of-control and helpless. So go ahead, pick up that spade and plant a tree. You will feel so much more satisfied than if you sit in the shade of somebody elses dreams. By the time we left England we had created a home and a space for our family that felt uniquely ours. We took charge and made our own impression on a small plot of land in the heart of a town we loved. And when we moved away, I left a piece of my soul and so many memories under that oak tree.
*With thanks to Google images for some of these photographs