Erika Rose

What plants and their personalities teach us

Photo by **Noelle Otto** from **Pexels**

You may not understand the petunias, but can you respect them?

Originally published in Change Your Mind-Change Your Life

Last September, I unshackled myself from my computer, left my job as a communications professional, and set out to write for myself, on my terms.

It’s been a slow process that yields slow results. Kind of like watching plants grow. So it seemed only fitting to take on a seasonal job in a local greenhouse. Why not spend a few hours a week in the cheeriest place around?

Most days, I found the planting and watering tasks to be meditative, and like the budding life forms under my care, my creativity germinated as I played in the dirt. Ideas bounced in my head like water droplets on leaves, until I came home and downloaded them onto my blog.

As I roamed the aisles bursting with color, I came to appreciate the beauty that came from every variety living together in unity. As I began working with the plants individually, I discovered their uniqueness.

They reminded me of people. One day, fully aware that I was being judgmental, I began stereotyping the plants. Later, I tried to observe my prejudices and look for the merits that each plant brought to the greenhouse.

(Insert eye roll) Here come the petunias

I don’t like petunias.

I initially saw them as incorrigibly positive. They will continually bloom, even when you hack away at them. Mow them down, be ruthless with them, and they’ll still return, pretty and as disgustingly positive as ever. I can almost hear them squeaking with exuberance as I mow them down, “Isn’t today great? Ouch! That’s okay … still great.”

I found this revolting. Somebody is always coming by with a pair of scissors and just when you’ve got your prettiest blooms out there, they get hacked away. Cut off because you’re going to get all leggy again, and we can’t have that.

Seems they’re getting beat down at every turn, yet staying positive and happy nonetheless. Cut down their blooms and they’ll still be out there fighting. Before long, they’ll take their sunny disposition outward and away from the pot, only to be wrangled in yet again.

As I trimmed the petunias, in all their sticky glory, I started to see them in a completely different light.

They get a lot of attention because they command attention.

They’re in the front of the greenhouse and their pretty faces get snapped up by unsuspecting people naïve to their messy behaviors.

I didn’t realize you had to be so rough with them. Until I worked in the greenhouse, I handled them with kid gloves, lovingly and endlessly picking off their spent blooms in the exact right place.

This made them even needier. The more attention you pay to them, the more they demanded.

While I suppose I can admire their indestructible spirit, I do wonder why they put up with it. And I don’t much care for grandiosity either. No wonder I never liked these flowers.

Other stereotypes I’ve assigned:

Marigolds remind me of sorority girls – all pretty much the same color and very uniform. Lots of them in a tight bunch all the time. I’ve never much paid attention to marigolds. I don’t like yellow and orange. And I was never a sorority girl so I guess I can’t relate. But they do band together and protect their clan from other critters that don’t play nice in the garden, so there’s that.

Gerbera daisies are divas. They’re picky about their temperature, how well-drained their soil is. They will only give you their best side after much primping. I’ve never been able to keep a gerbera daisy in bloom. Kind of like when I do my nails once a millennium. Once they’re gone, they’re gone.

I admire dahlias. Dahlias are unapologetic and authentic. They stand tall and are bold. They watch over the other flowers in the pot without encroaching on them. They let the others do their thing. They are leaders.

Impatiens will manage and even thrive in conditions that are less than sunny. Harsh elements make them wilt and they’ll cry out for help. Help them a little and they’ll be your best friend. They wear their heart on their sleeve, impatiens do. You can leave them alone to do their thing. Just don’t treat them too badly.

Begonias are people pleasers but not in an impish sort of way. They play nice with others. They prefer the shade but won’t hesitate to take their opportunity to shine. You can add one to just about any collection of anything and they’ll show off their best features while complimenting the others, too.

I think coleus sets a good example. There are so many different colors and they look great all together. The more colors and varieties that are packed together, the better. This is their strength. They ought to be a symbol of diversity.

Try this. It’s fun. Assign a flower to yourself or a person you know.

I am an impatien who aspires to be a begonia or a dahlia. In the meantime, I’m trying out being a geranium.

Geraniums quietly shed their leaves from the bottom as if to not disturb the growth and the parts that are already good and strong. They quietly shed what isn’t serving them anymore. Their bottom leaves collapse and fade under new growth. The spent blooms must be quickly truncated as they are unsightly. Their new growth rises slowly. You can see their anticipation and excitement with being the center of attention, patiently growing towards their time in the sun.

My husband is a succulent or a fern. He doesn’t need much to survive and be happy. There’s a place for him in most assortments and he’s happy to just do his part.

My daughter is a portulaca. This flower is tidy and stays low to the ground. Its blooms open and close with the conditions. Like a portulaca, she keeps her circle tight, leaves her comfort zone only after much thought and planning, and retreats to the comfort of home when feeling threatened.

My other daughter, although she is a sorority girl, isn’t a marigold in my book. She’s like the creeping jenny accent plant that I place into just about every arrangement I plant. It is its own perfect bright shade of green that stands out and yet finds a place in every group, gently moving and showing its color through the other leaves. It’s perky and constantly on the move, but in a good way, not an invasive way, like the ivy.

A lesson in diversity

The bottom line: What makes the greenhouse beautiful is its array of colors, shapes, textures, and personalities.

A great greenhouse is diverse. Its beauty comes out when its many colors and styles are looked at all together as one. Every one of their personalities and strengths can complement the group when used appropriately.

I for one could use a little petunia positivity whilst getting hacked at. Also like the petunias, if you want to have your time in the sun, well, you might just have to take it.

There’s a place for every one of our unique contributions. Even petunias.

Why I traded goals for promises

Promises you keep become habits. Habits lead to achievements. The secret lies in your daily routine.

Originally published in Change Your Mind-Change Your Life

When I first left my job to pursue freelance writing, the first promise I made to myself was so minuscule, talking about it out loud seems so silly.

I promised myself that I would get out of bed each day and have coffee with my husband before he leaves for work. I drink it from a mug adorned with my new business logo, a gift from my biggest cheerleader, as a reminder that I have a “job” to do today.

Six months later, I’m proud to say that tiny kept promise is now a habit. The desire to simply show up for myself is the force that pulls me out of bed each day. It sets the tone for the day.

In reflecting on how this tiny promise became a habit, and how it has since led to more habit-forming promises, I’ve begun to imagine what the sum of a lot of tiny kept promises could mean. Achieving a goal seems daunting, but keeping a promise? Much easier.

Goals are hard. Promises are easy.

Along with changing my career, losing weight and getting fit are other things I want for myself. You might call these desires “goals,” caution me that they aren’t very specific, and advise me to drill down to the details.

OK. How about lose 10 lbs. in three months? Go to the gym three times a week? Have solid income from my writing pursuits within six months?

Yes, that’s more specific, but nope, that’s not going to cut it either.

The problem is not only that these still are not nearly specific enough, but they are goals. Goals are a far-away place where you hope to see yourself in the future. The road is often long and difficult and because of that, it can be hard to stay the course without sitting down and resting, sometimes for a long time.

Focus on your daily routine

For me, merely having goals doesn’t work, even when I’ve identified the tasks necessary to get me there.

“You’ll never change your life until you change something you do daily. The secret of success is found in your daily routine.”
Unknown

Now read that again. Your. Daily. Routine.

Or, if it suits you better, your weekly routine.

I’m trying to put the notion of weight loss and fitness out of my mind completely. It’s more like a big idea that I allow to float in the periphery of my mind. Instead, I’ve promised myself that I will show up at my gym ONCE a week. While it may sound as small and silly as my coffee commitment, it’s where I’m starting. It’s only once a week. I can do that. And when that habit is as ingrained as my morning coffee routine, well, that’s looking too far out, but I’m thinking that once it’s a firm habit, it could lead to TWO days a week.

As far as my career, I’m not thinking about having a new career as an in-demand freelance writer commanding huge fees. But I am going to FINISH this blog post by the end of today and put it out into the world and resist the urge to move my own deadline.

My tiny coffee promise didn’t seem silly anymore after I heard retired U.S. Navy Admiral William H. McRaven describe something similar in his address to the graduating class at the University of Texas at Austin in 2014. He talked about how during his basic Navy SEAL training, he was required to make his bed to perfection every morning. Making your bed became the first of 10 life lessons he bestowed upon the graduates that day.

“If you make your bed every morning, you will have accomplished the first task of the day. It will give you a small sense of pride. And it will encourage you to do another task, and another, and another.”
Retired U.S. Navy Admiral William H. McRaven

When I heard this excerpt from the admiral’s speech, I realized it was a slight variation on my promises commitment. “Make Your Bed” was so far from silly that it became the title of his bestselling book published in 2017.

My daily coffee promise didn’t start as an intentional means of inching me closer to my goals. Rather, the coffee habit was an accidental lesson that made me believe in the power of a million tiny promises.

Little things matter.

The first story I posted on Medium earned me seven cents. SEVEN. CENTS. Sounds silly, but just like my little morning coffee routine, this micro-success was enough for me to want to do it again. So I made a new promise for the following week. To post another story. Next week’s promise is to learn how to increase my audience. One task. One promise. It will surely lead to another one.

Be Your Own Accountability Buddy

No one has to know that you’ve not fulfilled a promise to yourself, and this is where it can all fall apart. If you suffer from “shiny object syndrome” like me, there is always a reason to delay your self-imposed deadlines. As a writer all my life, I thrive on deadlines. But when I’m the deadline maker, I am extending them ALL. THE. TIME. And getting in my own way.

I need an accountability buddy, but it has to be me. Keeping tiny promises feels achievable. Disappointing myself when I’m evaluating my week isn’t a good feeling. And that is a good motivator for the following week.

So I repeat my mantra: Promises lead to habits. Habits lead to fulfilled goals.

On Sunday evening, I write out the promises I intend to keep to myself in the coming week. You might call them tasks, I call them promises. When I’ve kept one, I write over the pencil in pen. Seeing all the penned in accomplishments makes me happy. If my pencil tasks are successfully rewritten in pen, and my calendar is an array of colorful checked boxes by the end of the week, I’ll allow myself some time to indulge in a hobby or learn something new, but I have to earn this time.

As I write this, it’s Sunday, and since I didn’t keep all of my promises, I’ve got catching up to do, simply because I want to keep all my promises to myself. They weren’t unreasonable. They were certainly achievable. So I must finish them.

If I can’t keep all of my promises to myself in a day, that’s okay, I will make it up to myself over the workweek. If I fail to keep a promise, I won’t beat myself up. That is the purpose of Monday. Otherwise known as START ANEW DAY.

Have a great week. May you keep all your promises and make yourself proud.

Fear Mountain

Longs Peak as seen from the summit of Hallett Peak.

How I found the path leading away from my comfort zone

Five days before a particularly momentous birthday, I set out to summit a mountain.

Hallett Peak in Rocky Mountain National Park stands at 12,713 feet above sea level. Given my current physical shape and limitations, we chose not the hardest hike or highest peak, but definitely a formidable challenge. In a list of 82 hikes rated by difficulty, the peak is in the top 10 of most difficult hikes in RMNP.

Desperate to spend as much time moving as I typically sat in my office job, I wanted to use this vacation as a springboard to a new and improved lifestyle. It wasn’t going to be easy thanks to the overpronation of my left foot which was choosing right now to become a serious hindrance to my mobility.

Thanks to a steroid injection, sturdy trekking poles, and some determination, off we went. As I later learned, I needed this entire experience more than I ever knew at the time.

At 5:20 a.m., we set out on the trail, guided by our flashlights and a bright full moon. The sun began to light the sky behind the mountains about a mile and a half into our hike before exploding into a mind-boggling array of beauty and color. For what turned out to be four hours and 45 minutes in total, I concentrated on making that annoying left foot of mine keep up with the rest of me.

Thankfully, it was a clear day. Clouds most certainly would have given me pause on this journey. But the universe needed to teach me something on this day and the threat of lightning on a mountain summit would have been too much fear to surmount at this juncture. Since nothing rewarding is easy, a cold late-summer wind would have to be the obstacle of choice.

Not far from the summit, fatigued and wind-beaten and painfully aware that the journey wasn’t even half over, I leaned against the mountain in fear. I looked up at my husband who was leading the way, and was blinded by the sun. I could barely see him or the cairns that marked the path. With the vastness of Mother Earth all around me and the relentless wind pounding my senses, I quickly became very afraid. I couldn’t see where I was going; it was just a climb at this point.

Shortly thereafter, I stepped onto the summit. The glorious, attitude-adjusting summit.

THIS. This was the lesson I needed exactly right now in my life. All the inspirational phrases I had tacked up around my house to motivate me still hadn’t accomplished THIS. All the clichés in the world were just that, until this very moment. I needed to experience this 360-degree view that symbolized the abundant possibilities of taking a risk.

In all, that hike was an eight hour-day. As I lay throbbing that evening, ice packs covering my ailing foot and ankle, I was overwhelmed. Just as the beauty and awe of the mountains and the achievement had done earlier that afternoon, the aches washed over me as if to solidify the message I so sorely needed.

Suddenly, my mind shifted to my reality at home, where a parallel mountain had been looming.

I had been considering making the leap into the unknown and pursuing self-employment as a writer, but paralyzed by uncertainty and indecision, I found myself affixed to the side of a metaphorical mountain. The idea of leaving my job without another one lined up was risky and scary and I still can’t see clearly where I’m stepping, just like that day I searched for the summit in the blinding sun.

That day on the peak, Hallett’s fierce winds screamed at me to pay attention. Back at home, they’re like gentle whispers that speak to me each day. Sometimes we need the universe to teach us things by showing us other things and leaving us to connect the dots. This is one of those times.

I resigned a day after returning from that trip, on my birthday. I had to act, because I’d be disrespecting Hallett Peak, or as I sometimes call her, Fear Mountain, if I didn’t.

This mountain taught me that taking a step into the unknown can be incredibly rewarding if I’m open to the possibilities. Also, discomfort serves a purpose; and adaptions are necessary.

Thank you, Hallett Peak, for getting my attention, spurring me to action and reminding me to focus on using my strengths instead of concentrating on my weaknesses.