Over the course of writing this blog, I’ve made many references to gardening. It’s amazing how much my experience gardening has impacted how I think about creative work and life in general.
At one point, I even thought about writing a book about all that gardening has taught me. Maybe someday I will.
But, for now, I have yet another post in which I will draw on analogies from gardening, specifically growing vegetables.
The lesson today is: one does not normally plant only to let the harvest rot on the vine.
I remember so many times at the end of the season when a frost was threatening, I would run out and pick as many tomatoes as I could that were still hanging on the vine waiting to ripen. It didn’t matter that they were still green. Some of the “almost ripe” tomatoes would gradually turn red on the counter. The rest of the green tomatoes were turned into Salsa Verde or a green tomato vegetarian mincemeat (yes, that’s a thing and very tasty.)
The point of growing tomatoes is to harvest and eat tomatoes. Right?
Earlier in the season, if I went out and discovered that I waited too long to pick cherry tomatoes and they were split or otherwise unusable, I always felt guilty about wasting the tomatoes and my time growing and tending the plants. Thankfully, that didn’t happen too often, but the point remains.
If you grow tomatoes, your intention is to harvest the tomatoes, not let them spoil.
I understand things happen. A sudden illness or other significant event, in my case a back surgery, can prevent us from being able to harvest what we grew. But those are exceptional cases.
When we plant, we intend to harvest.
I almost lost track of this wisdom when it came to some of my music.
You may know that I had intended to apply to Duke University to begin classes next fall (2025.) I was planning to pursue a PhD in musicology, hoping to study the heroic in music, a topic I began to delve into during one of my courses last year. I went so far as to ask a few of my professors to write letters of recommendation for me and to write my application essays.
But a week before the deadline, I realized I could not follow through with this plan.
Over winter break, I had more time to think, and I also attended a couple of music entrepreneur and career-planning workshops, which I do on a regular basis.
At the last of these workshops, the leader said something that made me stop in my tracks. Unfortunately, I can’t remember what she said.
But when she said it, the set of piano meditations I recently completed immediately popped into my mind. They were crying out to me, like a small child who needs attention calling out for mom.
I realized then and there that I had somehow – ridiculously – left them out of my plans.
If you’ve been following me on social media or through my email newsletter, you know that I finished this set of meditations in September 2024, right before Hurricane Helene hit. I then quickly put together a concert and performed them all at my church in November 2024 to raise money for hurricane relief efforts.
It was a huge success and well received!
That’s where I had left it. I figured that I would record them, but I wasn’t thinking beyond that. I was simply on a path to apply for a PhD.
But then, all of a sudden, my set of meditations – an already completely designed and proven concert – was shouting, “Hey! What about me?”
This set of meditations was a gift from God, born out of hard work, that was finished. They had been planted and tended and brought to maturity. The fruit was ripe.
The Parable of the Ten Talents came to mind. I had a choice: “bury” the work and let it rot in the ground or gather the harvest and do my best to turn it into something delicious.
I realized I had to turn my attention toward these meditations and this concert. I am the only one who can expand this project, and it is not compatible with doctoral studies.
So, I am holding off on applying for any further degrees until I see what happens.
Instead, I am taking these meditations and this concert on the road.
If your church might be interested in having me come, or to learn more about this project, I have an entire page dedicated to it here.