Gentle Defiance in Leaves and Roots

From an early age, I've felt most grounded surrounded by nature - the green sights, verdant smells and crisp rustling of leaves. Through my teens and early 20s, you'd likely find me perched upon a park bench cradled between a green canopy and glassy lake. Save for the occasional tweet or soft ripple of water, all was still. And, my overactive mind was still.

As time spilled into my late 20s and forward, my blossoming career led me to the excess of New York City. I found myself both overstimulated and excited with its towering, gray skyscrapers, tiny slices of green swarmed with humans, and flashy work parties that ended late in underground KoreaTown Karaoke Bars. At the same time, my connection to nature - and the centeredness it provided - slowly wilted away, while my anxiety increased. When my 30s came, I found myself burnt out. I pivoted to a more traditional corporation where I felt structure and sanity was what I needed. I focused further on rising to the top, while unknowingly grew further from myself. I also lost the why.

Thankfully, over the last five years, I rediscovered my love for near-daily nature walks, and also became enamored with the art of botany and herbalism. This further enhanced these romps as I better understood the plants around me. I could ascertain which plants were food, which were medicinal or both, which were invasive, and which were a sign of certain soil qualities. My mind was positively tickled, while my awareness of the world around me - especially corporate jargon and politics - heightened. This helped me climb the ladder further, but also made me more skeptical of the viability of the role I took - a servant leader requiring a people-focused, direct and trusting foundation.

While I enjoyed the people around me - and loved the healthy team building and process we created - I found the empire we lived in would consistently topple our progress due to the reality of reactive c-level whims and shareholder demands. Much like plants, we'd grow back with a new way of working - I was highly adaptable. My colleagues - though discouraged by much of our progress undid - were influenced by my adaptability. We'd reroot.

While my skills in herbalism increased, so did my sense of liberation in life. I realized that the concept of adaptability was misused and weaponized against myself when ideas were thoughtfully challenged and healthy boundaries were taken as threats. I wasn't being asked to adapt, I was being asked to obey. I realized the system was changing - the concept of micromanagement and a controlling top-down approach had rooted too deeply to allow actual flexibility and healthy growth.

It made me realize I might be so misaligned that not even the heaviest, quality golden handcuffs would ever be enough. Again, I found my final answer in the defiance of nature that grounded me so. Its insistence to - sooner or later - resist its own destruction, only to regrow again, taught me it was time. Like a dandelion pushing through concrete, I pushed myself out of a corporate world that was completely smothering. And, as nature always returns to itself, I rediscovered that creative, inquisitive, happy person I'd lost along the way.

Thus, I tore a leaf from my botany book, liberating myself from a world that was conflicted with what I believed and who I was. I left my position, and refocused on my small business that monetarily pays little in comparison, but pays big in alignment, joy, creativity and freedom.

And, as my venture grows, so does the influence of my muse - the patient flora that teaches me to be steady, persistent and resistant. In fact, its constituents are woven into the incense, candles and aromatherapy I make with my hands and resolve.