Get Outside

The persistent courage to be in the dirt

I never grew up being “outdoorsy.” 

Because I had to grow up quickly, I was more content being inside with the grownups or with my nose in a book. Reflecting on this now, it was the beginning of my tendency to hide to stay and be safe.

During the summers while my single mom worked, I would stay at my Aunt Kathy and Uncle Vinny’s house during the day.  My second mom, whom I affectionally called Auntie would force me to go outside knowing it was uncomfortable. 

I can still hear her saying, “That’s enough. You’ve been inside too long. Get out there and play with your cousins. You need to enjoy being a kid because someday you’ll wish you were.” 

If I knew then what I know now instead of sulking or rolling my eyes, I would have rushed outside with wild abandon on my own without waiting to be pushed forgoing the need for safety.

Fast forward, I find being outside a healing salve—especially in nature.  It allows me to focus on the gratitude to be able to hear, smell and see. 

I love the sound of the birds with their melodies and calls. The smells in the air of sweet flowers, the morning dew or fresh cut grass never disappoint.

And then there’s the beauty in watching the seasons change. The vibrant green leaves that morph to deep orange and red left barren and covered in winter white looking majestic and then budding anew.

In a past incarnation of my life, I’d weed and plant flowers in my garden so that my home would “look pretty and appear well kept.”  I did it because I thought I had to—not because I wanted to.  I certainly didn’t enjoy getting messy in the dirt.

I can see now I was tied up in the weeds of the “shoulds, oughts and appearances” generations in society spread as a way of strangling us from joy and realizing our full human potential.

Now, I find happiness, truth, authenticity, peace and wisdom in the dirt.

I’ve learned that embracing the messiness, digging my naked hands deep into the earth and pulling out weeds is not only therapeutic but necessary for my own growth.

Photo by Jonathan Kemper on Unsplash

As I was out in my flower beds by choice and for enjoyment recently, I was marveling at the bugs, worms and plants living together.  It then hit me that ecosystems aren’t just these physical things co-existing as they taught us in science class.  It’s so much more.

As humans, we are complex creatures by nature. Caroline Raeff in her book Exploring the Complexities of Human Action wrote, “Human beings are complex creatures who live complex lives amidst complex circumstances in all corners of a complex world.” 

For us to be our best selves, find our true purpose and have meaning in our lives, getting into the dirt, weeding, and planting is just as imperative.

We must shed old versions of ourselves. We must sometimes, as painful as it is, choose to remove beliefs, people and things that stifle us and don’t allow us to grow into our own beauty, uniqueness, and truth.

From my own experience, during sprouting seasons, I must let light in differently. I must stop fighting the need to stay in a sea of sameness because it’s safe. I must stop hiding inside and run outside to breathe in fresh air. I lean into hope and faith allowing the sun to shine fully in all directions.  

And yes, rain is needed, even the torrential downpours. While it makes the weeds grow faster, it’s cleansing and makes them easier to extract by the roots. Thus, removing all that doesn’t serve me.  And there’s an added bonus. It makes me appreciate the sun that much more.  

One more thing. To fully bloom into our own fullness, we need people to help along the way. Just like our plants in the garden, we may need to get rid of some and add others to allow ourselves to fully thrive.

Life is short. Yesterday our Spiritus Christi Church choir family in Rochester, NY gathered at hospice to sing for and say goodbye to one of our own.  Ann was beautiful, fun and spirited, always with a mischievous glint in her eyes. She and her sister Mary Ellen personified the meaning of being two peas in pod—always together spreading love, laughter, and light.

Ann is a perfect example of finding growth even when life throws the biggest pile of shit into the dirt. Yesterday, she ministered to us all, taught us the meaning of grace and with her signature naughtiness asked if we knew any Grand Funk Railroad. 

When we sang about how great God was and that S/He was an on-time God, Ann raised her arms to the heavens in praise knowing what was coming with peace and a smile on her face. 

This morning, she became one of the most brilliant and brightest flowers in heaven’s garden.  I will miss her and feel so grateful to have had her example and the opportunity to share it with others.

As scary as it is, the time is now. I invite you to take steps to live your best life to get outside and messy in the dirt, to prune, weed, and plant. 

While it’s uncomfortable and challenging, you’ll surprise yourself at just how resilient and strong you are. Trust me. You are capable of growth and can bloom, reaching heights in beautiful colors you never imagined possible.