Friday morning I broke the glass water carafe that sat in my reading room. A symbol of personal luxury: I remember why I chose it; my favorite local home and garden store where I found it; and the stories that accumulated as it moved with me from one relationship and home to the next. Even if I didn’t sit sipping water exactly as, or as often, as my imagination conjured, the scene visualized potential; an invitation I needed only to accept.
Someone told me that breaking glass signifies a shift in consciousness. Why not; I use all the tools and stories available at my disposal to keep life interesting. So instead of reacting with regret, I greeted the accident with enthusiastic anticipation. It’d been awhile since I’d broken any glass and I am always ready and willing for shift.
It didn’t feel right to pitch the carafe, not immediately, so I gathered flowers from my burgeoning garden and made a new still life. A vignette of gratitude. When I bought my home, it matched my vision and wish list to the detail. On that list: a sunny blank slate for a garden. As soon as I moved in, I realized my mistake. No, I didn’t actually mean a blank slate; not with my meager budget and more pressing expenses like new gas lines and upgraded plumbing. Or maybe I knew exactly what I needed. Three years later, my garden blooms and nearly every plant, bush and tree has been a gift from someone else’s garden. Friends, neighbors and family—today I know the tenfold joy of tending a community garden.
Shift happens in a moment; fulfillment, like growing a garden, takes patience. The day I closed on my house, I accepted a position on Buffalo First’s board of directors and purchased a secondhand bike—all three symbolic of my conscious commitment to Buffalo. A commitment to live, care and share locally. I dreamt of helping this city—my chosen home—realize its potential in creative ways, large and small. I was called here and I wanted to get to work. What I didn’t realize, was that I still had my own to finish. I was sowing intention that day, planting my energy, but seeds need time.
The first year in my dirt patch of a garden, I pulled weeds, brought in soil, removed concrete and redefined garden beds. Hard work and not exactly fulfilling. The second year I planted whatever I was given; worried and watered and waited while nothing much happened. Then, as if by magic, my effort multiplied over winter and announced itself this spring in an abundance of color and beauty—enough to pick and place in a broken carafe.
Friday evening I hosted friends for dinner and dancing to help me celebrate the successful launch of Babe Effect Home. Late in the evening, looking for a playlist in my inbox, I saw a message from BALLE—I’d been awarded a scholarship to attend their annual conference. Shift and fulfillment: my intentions bloom!