Greetings, Earthlings!
It’s a sunny March Saturday (now Sunday), and the earth around me got an early start on Spring. Daffodils are budding, squirrels are gathering, and crows are reappearing. Regardless of the way we seemed to skip over the deep hibernation of winter, it’s clear that a new season is upon us.
Spring tends to feel like a spiritual new year to me. Considering goals for the warmer months, planning how to use time and space in life and my garden, and shining light on ideas that have sat dormant through the lower-energy wintertime. An idea that was reawakened in me recently has to do with developing and maintaining nourishing social connections. It starts in a coffee shop, wanders to a garden, and lands at work. Shall we check it out together? Okay, off we get!
The Coffee Shop
The town where I live looks like most American suburbs. Neighborhoods of apartments, townhouses, single-family homes, etc. We have a mall, strips of individual shops, and standalone businesses, both locally-owned and commercial chains. I have plenty of opportunities to buy things, but have been wondering about what adults do for social time (that doesn’t revolve around their children, work, or alcohol). My options, to paint this with a broad brush, include: bars, gyms, libraries, churches, eateries, or clubs (if I can find them and the meeting times jive with my bustling schedule). What I felt was missing, and was recently gifted, was a coffee shop.
When I think of a coffee shop, I don’t mean a Starbucks or Panera (though my neighborhood Panera is a beacon for those who like to gather). I mean a neighborhood space filled with local people savoring time and connection with each other, usually over a snack or a non-alcoholic beverage. A coffee shop, for me, is a vibe. A community. And I feel that taking shape now at MOTW.
MOTW Coffee & Pastries, I’ve learned, is a franchise of coffee shops with locations in Indiana, Connecticut, and now, Illinois. I watched as the space was developed before they opened: floor-to-ceiling windows, a beautiful mural, and welcoming lighting transformed a vacant building into a hub right by our downtown train station. It’s been a big hit since they opened a few weeks ago, and most weekends there’s a line to the door of customers excited partake in this community experience. MOTW feels like a response to a request I’ve been sending out into the universe for years now. Going there fills me with gratitude. And hope.
Seed Saving, Seed Swapping
Now that my social cup is regularly being filled, I find that my overall energy is lighter. I know I can show up in that space, alone or with a companion, and immerse myself in Human Stew. Delightful. With this renewed energy and unseasonably warm weather, I’ve been anticipating the upcoming gardening season. Thanks to a social media post, I discovered that my town also has an active gardening club, and was able to attend a Seed Swap at our local library. Woot! I’d never been to a Seed Swap before, and it was a nourishing experience to talk shop with other local gardeners (and aspiring gardeners). Something special that happened at the Seed Swap has to do with a particular seed (a bean) that I’ve grown in my own garden.
First, a look back in time: A few years ago, I ordered Cherokee Trail of Tears Black Beans to grow in my garden. A gardener/YouTuber I enjoy, MIGardener (The Michigan Gardener) had them for sale on their website, and I felt drawn to the genetic and sociologic lineage that the beans carried. The history of these beans is nuanced. They highlight the essential skill of growing food for survival, the resilience of a people who were dehumanized and overpowered, and the importance of that historical lineage and storytelling that remind us how we came to this place in history, and what is owed to a land and its people. The cycles. Reciprocity. (May I, again, highly recommend the book “Braiding Sweetgrass” by Robin Wall Kimmerer for a poetic and medicinal presentation on our nation’s history).
Back to the main trail: I’ve saved beans each season and used them to grow the following year’s crop. This practice is known as “seed saving”, and the process varies depending on the needs of the seeds. The first year, I only had a few pods total so I only had enough to save, not enough to eat. Last year, my garden was much more established and I ended up with enough beans to cook and dehydrate/save for this upcoming season. I incorporated the Cherokee Trail of Tears Black Beans into soups and stews — feeding the body and spirit of my family and friends. The rest I kept and have at-the-ready for the rapidly approaching warmer months.
I didn’t know what to expect at my first Seed Swap, so I brought almost my entire collection of seeds with me. My kids in-tow, we wandered into a room at the library and found murmuring gardeners stooped over seed envelopes, deciding what they’d like to bring to life in the coming summer. There were so many varieties of seeds. Pumpkins, tomatoes, carrots, cucumbers, zucchini… organized into categories and ours for the taking. My garden space is limited, so I had to stifle the urge to take a little of everything home with me.
In one area was a box from the garden club, and in it were small envelopes with a sticker that said: “One Seed, One Community”. Intrigued, I asked the lady standing nearby about the concept. She explained that a local organization, Sustain DuPage, is building a seed library/cache to ensure crop diversity and sustainability in our community. The “One Seed, One Community” initiative provides new and experienced gardeners with a packet of Amish Snap Peas and growing instructions (I’m on an email list that lets us know what to do when). Once the plant produces bean pods, we growers will save a portion of the seeds and return them to Sustain DuPage be added to the seed library/cache for future use. I am excited to see where this journey into the gardening community takes me, and delight in the thoughtfulness of the humans who are keeping it organized. (For those interested, here’s the Sustain DuPage philosophy).
Here’s a little Seed Swap Serendipity that will get us to the main trail of this post: In the section marked “Seeds & Beans”, sitting among the sugar snap peas and green pole beans, was a jar of familiar-to-me Cherokee Trail of Tears Black Beans, provided by another member of the club. Imagine the thrill of this moment for me: seeking community and finding it, then discovering the many paths that bring our lives together. I don’t know who brought the jar of beans, and can only wonder at the origin of their collection… but isn’t it incredible to find ourselves together, here and now? (I scooped a few and intend to throw them into my mix this Spring, because now I know more about the need for diversity in our plant lineages).
I Mentioned Something About Work
Gardening is something I do in my personal life, and I do it for myself. I know that the work I put in ripples out, but at the root, my gardening hobby/lifestyle nourishes me. When I go to work, I’ve realized that my job is an act of service. Service to myself and family (income, security, etc.) and my community (maintaining/improving the quality of care across Illinois). When I have ideas at work, it’s important that they’re well thought out and are a good use of resources. I would hate to waste time (and, really, taxpayer dollars) on work that doesn’t create helpful waves of change in Healthcare. I’ve had projects that feel mundane, work that feels like it’s taking a million years longer than it should, and a few that have felt like resounding successes. I feel myself at the brink of a few exciting branches of work in my professional life. I’m writing them here while I unpack them elsewhere:
I think I see a way to improve connection with our patients who are homebound and/or on hospice care by leveraging Narrative Medicine and the work of volunteer workers.
I’m exploring opportunities to leverage technology to better support field clinicians, their leaders, and the patients we serve while also improving the ways we create and maintain meaningful connection.
I’m figuring out how to improve/increase nursing student exposure to the home health setting while minimizing the preceptor burden on our frontline clinicians
I’m working to improve communication between provider offices (doctors, nurse practitioners) and our field clinicians to improve workflows and patient safety.
Those are ideas that swirl around in my head when I lay down at night. During the work day, I tend to keep busy teaching classes, attending meetings, and fielding calls/messages from colleagues. Today, for some reason, I find my mind returning to work even though it’s Saturday and (supposedly) a day of rest. And it all ties into gardening, which is how I’ll wrap this up today.
Cycles of Ideas
I have stewed on the cracks in the foundation of Modern American Healthcare for so long, it’s almost beginning to sound like white noise. I’m learning the history and finding my words by reading “Being Mortal: Medicine and What Matters In The End” by Atul Gawande. I’m learning how to keep myself and others well-nourished and mobile through gardening and fitness. And I’m continuing to show up to work with a light and a megaphone to help identify problems, propose solutions, and work towards better outcomes and futures for Healthcare Workers and the humans we serve.
Note to self: Every idea can’t be a winner. It’s not possible to anticipate every outcome. I can’t know it all. But what I’m learning to do is seek to understand. I continually ask questions, trying to get to the bottom (root) of the way things are. The ways systems are connected. Antiquated ideas and practices retiring, making way for new ones to thrive. Clearing away the debris of previous seasons, and replenishing the soil so it sustains the garden of the future.
I went to my garden one particularly sunny day last week and discovered a few pods still remained on the spiraling tendrils of last year’s Trail of Tears plants. Inside the pods were seeds of varying shapes and quality. Some were firm, shiny, smooth, and black, indicating to me the potential for success (thriving). Others a little wrinkled, the outer skin crinkling away from the firm bean underneath (surviving). And still others were shriveled, misshapen lumps covered in fuzz that I assume is mold (dying?). I don’t need to be a gardening expert to note the differences, and infer what they mean. Assessing the quality of these seeds (ideas) With space and time limited, I have to consider how I spend both. With that in mind, I tossed the shriveled, wrinkly, moldy beans to the wind (let chance take care of them), and the rest I’ve stored to be planted a different day. Like ideas… behaviors… patterns…
Closing thought: What ideas or patterns of behavior do you notice in your life? Do they serve you? If they do, why? If not, what might you change about them? What might a different path look like, and how could you get there? What will you plant along the way?
Take good care, and think about growing something this Spring!
Love,
Jessie
PS
Here’s a song that’s special to me. It reminds me of family and a trip to Northern Idaho. It came on unexpectedly at MOTW the other day. What a delight. Hunnybee by Unknown Mortal Orchestra: