Planting These Seeds Can Change All of Us for the Better

Biba Kayewich

Often, in carrying out intentional acts of grace and goodness, we blindly give a part of ourselves to those around us.

A teacher, for example, may inspire a student while remaining entirely unaware of the effect or the consequences.

Known for the acting talents he brought to films such as “Bridget Jones’s Diary” and “The King’s Speech,” for which he won the Oscar for Best Actor, Colin Firth called his college English teacher and drama coach, Penny Edwards, “one of the most important women in [his] life.” He invited her to come with him when he received a special award from Parliament.

It’s unlikely that Edwards realized at the time that she was coaching a future Hollywood star. She was simply bringing the enthusiasm for which she was known into her classroom, and Firth was swept up by it.

In his “Meditations,” the philosopher and emperor Marcus Aurelius pays homage to his grandfather, who taught him good manners and to keep his temper, and to his great-grandfather, who passed on to him the lesson that the expenses of home tutors were well worth the cost. It’s extremely unlikely that these kinsmen anticipated immortality in words later written by their offspring. They unwittingly passed on to Aurelius gifts that added to his greatness.

Here, my Grandma Helen, my mom’s stepmother, comes to mind. Like so many of her contemporaries, Grandma had lived through the Great Depression. She worked well into old age, raised children, and spent most of her days without extravagance of any kind. Through deed, rather than word, she taught me lessons in hard work and stoicism, the value of humor in times of trouble, and love.

From the smile of a stranger to lessons learned from a coach or grandparent, we receive nourishment of the spirit.

Shadows on the Land

As readers of The Epoch Times know, we’re living in strange times. Lots of things we took for granted just three or four years ago now seem out of whack. The inflation and recession, the scarcity of certain goods, the staggering rise of violent crime, the crazy spending by our overreaching government—on and on goes the list.

Even worse, perhaps, there’s a feeling in our country that things are off, that something dark and bad is taking place that we can’t quite identify. In the past six months or so, for example, I’ve met several people who have turned down being interviewed, afraid to speak their minds, preferring, as one told me, to keep their heads down.

And maybe it’s just me projecting my own unease, but the men and women I see on the sidewalks and in stores seem unhappy these days, more somber and withdrawn, more guarded and fearful than in the past.

Brighten the Corner Where We Are

In the classic children’s novel “The Secret Garden,” we find the following dialogue:

“‘Might I,’” quavered Mary, ’might I have a bit of earth?’

“In her eagerness, she didn’t realize how queer the words would sound and that they were not the ones she had meant to say. Mr. Craven looked quite startled.

“‘Earth!’ he repeated. ‘What do you mean?’

“‘To plant seeds in—to make things grow—to see them come alive,’ Mary faltered.”

Mary’s wish contains an invaluable lesson for us. The girl wants soil and seed for planting flowers “to see them come alive.” We can do the same, as all around us we find soil, by which I mean the hearts and minds of people young and old, begging for cultivation, particularly now. They merely lack the seed, sun, and rain to make that garden happen.

As we’ve seen above, nearly all of us have it within our power to become gardeners of the soul, to plant seeds. And unlike the labor and tools required to grow roses and crocuses, or if you prefer, tomatoes and pumpkins, sowing the seeds of cheer and goodwill can be as effortless as a smile and a nod to a shopper at the grocery store or a pat on the back and a word of encouragement to a disconsolate grandchild.

Suppose that we Epoch Times readers launched a new movement in America, a gardening project intended to lift downcast spirits while we also work to preserve our liberties. There’s a lot of us, and our efforts to bring some sunshine to friends and strangers might prove infectious, so that the beneficiaries of our kind word or good deed might then pass it on to others.

“We cannot all do great things,” Mother Teresa said. “But we can do small things with great love.”

Some might consider my ideas idealistic, impractical, or just plain goofy. Well, perhaps.

On the other hand, what have we got to lose?