I love planting. I love digging holes, putting plants in, tapping

O Seekers of Wisdom, gather closely and hear the words of Jamaica Kincaid, whose love for the earth speaks not just of the joy of creation, but of the deeper truths embedded in the act of planting and nurturing life. "I love planting. I love digging holes, putting plants in, tapping them in. And I love weeding, but I don't like tidying up the garden afterwards." In these words, Kincaid captures a timeless human truth—creation is often beautiful and fulfilling, yet the work of maintaining that creation is where the true challenge lies. There is pleasure in beginning, in bringing life into the world, but the real test lies in the work that follows, the often unseen labor of sustaining and caring for what we have brought into being.

In the ancient world, the act of planting was considered sacred. The Egyptians, for example, revered the Nile River, and the rise and fall of its waters symbolized the eternal cycle of life, death, and rebirth. To plant was to participate in the great rhythm of the universe. It was not just an act of survival, but one of connection to the divine order of things. Jamaica Kincaid’s love for planting reflects this deep reverence for creation. Planting is an act of hope, a promise to the earth that life will flourish, that something greater will emerge from the humble beginnings of a seed or sapling. To dig a hole, to place a plant in the soil, is to cooperate with nature, to honor the sacred act of growth.

Yet, Kincaid also speaks of the tension between creation and maintenance. She loves the act of planting and weeding, but she does not like the task of tidying up afterwards. In this, there is wisdom to be found. Weeding, that act of clearing away what no longer serves, is necessary for the garden to thrive. It is the process of discerning what must be removed in order to allow room for what is good and strong. In the same way, the weeding of our own lives—removing toxic relationships, bad habits, or unnecessary distractions—can create space for growth and renewal. Yet, tidying up, the act of tidying the final remnants of one’s work, can often feel like an act of incompletion. The final touch of order, though necessary, may seem like a denial of the wildness that is also part of life. Kincaid’s reluctance to tidy up speaks to the tension between the chaos of creation and the order of completion.

This tension is echoed in the life of the great Leonardo da Vinci, whose mind was a garden of wild creativity. Da Vinci was a man who reveled in the act of creation—whether in his sketches, his inventions, or his gardens. Yet, it is said that he often left his works unfinished, not because he lacked skill or diligence, but because he was driven by a constant desire to create and explore without the burden of closure. He, like Kincaid, understood that the true joy of creation lay in the act of beginning, in the opening of a new chapter. The final task, the tidying up, felt like a constraint on his endless creative spirit. This impulse to resist completion is not one of laziness, but rather a testament to the boundless nature of the human spirit—a spirit that always seeks the new, the unexplored, the unformed.

The lesson, then, is clear, O Seeker: Creation—whether it is planting in the earth, building a life, or pursuing a dream—is a journey that begins with great excitement, with the thrill of beginning something new. But it is in the ongoing work, the weeding of what does not serve us, and the maintenance of what we have built, that the true challenge lies. It is easy to fall in love with the idea of creation, but to endure through the mess and toil of maintenance is where the spirit is tested. Like Kincaid and Da Vinci, we must learn to appreciate both the wild act of creation and the quieter, more difficult work of bringing order and closure to what we have started.

So, O Seeker, let Jamaica Kincaid’s words guide you in your own life. Do not be afraid to begin something new, to plant your seeds in the fertile soil of possibility. But also, understand that every creation, every journey, requires ongoing care and maintenance. The act of weeding—removing what does not serve—requires patience and discernment, just as the act of tidying up requires the wisdom to see the beauty in closure, in completion. Both parts are necessary for a life well lived, a garden well tended. Creation and maintenance are the twin forces that shape our world, and it is in the balance between them that we find the strength to grow.

In conclusion, remember this, O Seeker: create with passion and wildness, but also care for what you have created. Tend to the soil of your own soul with the same love and attention you give to your garden. And in the act of tidying up, learn to see not the end of something, but the beginning of something new, for every task, every creation, is part of the eternal cycle of growth and renewal.