The Miracle of Carrots
Each fall while harvesting my garden…
I place a layer of soil in the bottom of a large enamel canner. I arrange the carrots in layers until the canner is almost filled. I repeatedly add more soil and gently bump the canner on the ground until soil has fallen between all the carrots. I add a final layer of soil to cover the top, take the canner to a room in my basement, and place it in the fridge to be stored in the darkness.
The carrots from my garden have been good teachers in my own journey of self-discovery and when I think of this in relation to healing, I realize that we humans tend to a similar process. Because we don’t have the ability to make sense of it, when we have a painful experience at a very young age, we place the pain in a container within and store it deep inside of us. As we grow, we add layers of pain from similar experiences. In an attempt to protect ourselves, we build walls and use things that are not necessarily life giving to fill between the layers. At some point, we may recognize our pattern and want to make change but find ourselves in darkness about why we continue to be drawn into the same situations with the same results.
Even though my carrots are stored deep in the darkness protected by the soil, the walls of the canner, the fridge, the room, and the outer walls of the house, once the Solstice arrives and we begin to move back into the light, they begin to grow. They develop tiny roots and slowly, over time, the tops begin to sprout with new leaves. By bringing the carrots fully into the light and scrubbing away what no longer serves, I am able to take in the nourishment they have to offer.
No matter how many times I witness this process, I am in awe of the miracle. I believe that we humans are incredibly resilient and like the carrots, it is in our nature to grow. Yes, it takes courage to shine a light on that which we have stored away in the darkness. And, as we slowly make our way through the layers, we not only begin to grow, we are eventually able to scrub away what no longer serves and receive the nourishment that our experiences have to offer.
As we move toward the completion of winter, may your inner garden be blessed with light.