Getting grounded

"If you want to be creative you have to learn how to do stuff that has no purpose. Art isn't made by working all the time, first you've got ro go out and live - the art will come" - Rupi Kaur 
Creativity is a word that has no limitations, no conformance, no exclusions. We have the ability to be creative in any way we choose, and that is a beautiful thing. 
While to one, being creative may be as simple as combing your hair slightly different this morning, as opposed to every other morning. To another, it may be as complex as creating a new algorithm for a commonly used phone app. There is no way to define what is or isn't a creative outlet. Limitless. 
During my lifetime I have tried many different types of creative outlets. I have fluctuated through the mediums more than Cleveland, Ohio likes to change its mind about the day's weather. Throughout all of this change, the only constant has been growth. Yet, another abstract concept to fumble around with in the mind.  In my time trying to conceptualize what creativity is, and how to "be" creative through growth, I had thought of a new creative outlet. 
One that doesn't plague my guilt with the wasting of canvas or paints on projects unfinished or that turned out "not quite right". An outlet that sustains not only my love of creating, but also my thirst for knowledge, understanding, and of course my hunger. 
I had finally decided to harness the power of the earth in all it's glory. I would be a plant mom. 
The summer of 2016 I dedicated my life to those that grew in the soil. I worked tirelessly with my partner to create a space that was fit for any HGTV enthusiast. After about a month of grunt work, we finally had it made in the shade. We had created 4 raised beds, soon to become home for our  various types of tomatoes, basils, lettuces, corn and much more. The bed dimensions varied but each was roughly able to hold 32 square feet of soil. Each foot of soil can sustain as many as 4 plants! Dependent on circumstances, of course. All I could see was how much potential I created, that I knew would soon turn into reward.  
As my garden grew that summer, from all of the warm rain and golden sunshine caressing the leaves and roots daily, so did I. My partner and I amicably came to the decision to part ways after many months of growing apart. My garden now became not only my joy, but also my comforter in solace. My tears fertilized the soil, and their strength became mine. As my plants grew, so did I.  
Now from a basic point of view, a garden grows as follows: Plant seeds, plant grows until mature, harvest, repeat. But from an inside perspective, you can't even list all of the immeasurable changes that happen. I watched as those seeds, planted not so far under the surface of the soil, grew into seedlings with their adorable tiny leaves. Then those leaves turned into buds or flowers, that in turn changed into fruits and vegetables, and back to seeds to be reborn. As each day passed with the setting sun, I too was undergoing immeasurably small changes. I was learning to find peace in myself and the world around me in ways inexpressible.  
Towards the end of the summer, as the leaves changed into those welcomed oranges and reds, the garden and I had let out a deep shared breath for the storm was over. The growth period was coming to a close, and it was time to harvest our hard work. As I harvested my bountiful fruits and vegetables, I thanked each plant for it's fruit, and for its support. I had weathered an emotional storm, and I had grown from it, with their help. 
In my time in the garden, during my personal growth, I was reminded daily by those beautiful plants, that even through growth isn't always outwardly apparent, it's always happening and it will always bring you beauty if you put in the work.  
It's been 5 years now since that garden has come and gone, but the seeds I planted there that year, are still growing deep inside of me.