Become A Seed

Nietzsche said, “The higher we soar, the smaller we appear to those who cannot fly.” Greatness often comes cloaked in smallness. To live a great life, you have to risk being misunderstood or even overlooked. You may have to leave that flashy job, break from family tradition, or devote yourself to quiet things that are hard to explain to others.

The natural world is full of species that thrive precisely because they contract in size. It’s called evolutionary miniaturization. Certain frogs have evolved to be smaller in order to access hidden habitats. Seeds have evolved to be tiny in order to ride the wind. In nature, contraction isn’t failure: it’s strategy.

I’ve been thinking lately about Hilma af Klimt, the visionary artist who insisted her paintings not be seen until twenty years after her death. She didn’t shun the spotlight out of fear, but because she trusted the future would understand her vision. She knew she was ahead of her time, so rather than dilute her work for approval, she chose to protect it.

Each of us, in our own way, has to learn this. You have to become a seed in order to fully bloom. That might mean slowing down, scaling back your career to be with loved ones, returning to school at fifty, or saying no to glamorous but draining things. Resist the self-help message that you need to “play a bigger game.” You need to grow in the shape of your heart — not more, not less than that.

These were the Buddha’s teachings on karma. Your life, he said, is shaped less by loud, visible choices — what college you attend, what job you land — and more by the invisible architecture of how you think, speak, and breathe. Others might not notice your growth. They might not praise the light in your eyes. That’s okay. Go deeper, underground, into the soil of possibility, and rest there, pregnant with all you’re becoming.

Ai Weiwei, “Kui Hua Zi (Sunflower Seeds)” (2008)