The Garden of Unbuilt Plans

Ideas come like seeds on the wind.

Some fall into my hands, some scatter across the desk, some never touch the soil at all.

Lately, I hear of this project and that project, each spoken like a promise.

But promises without action are only air.

And air does not build a wall, or put bread on the table.

I hold my own ideas carefully.

I do not worship them, but I do not discard them either.

They are seeds, not fruit.

They need soil, water, and time. They need provisions.

And so I live for a while in the garden of unbuilt plans.

It is not a place of failure, but of waiting.

Patience, then, is not idleness.

It is tending the ground, pulling the weeds, preparing for the day the seed is ready to root.

It is the quiet discipline of not rushing a tree to grow in a single season.

A plan is only an idea with discipline.

Action is only a plan with courage.

But fruit, fruit requires patience.

I have ideas I want to shape into plans.

I have plans I want to breathe into action.

The provisions will come when the soil is ready.

And when it does, the garden will not just grow.

It will feed.

Field Note:

Do not curse the seed for not being a tree.

Do not rush the tree for not bearing fruit.

Work the ground. Water daily. Wait with patience.

The harvest comes in its own time.