Belonging
There is a certain kind of magic attached to being part of something bigger than yourself.
-Belonging-
There is a certain kind of magic attached to being part of something bigger than yourself. A feeling of being swallowed by a bigger common mission, a feeling that eradicates one’s own sense of self, a feeling that can manifest in many shapes and forms. I would personally venture to say it might be one of the most powerful feelings, driven by one of the most quintessentially human experiences: connection.
Some people sing in bands, some are part of teams, some join political movements. I had done all of those and yes, it was nice to be surrounded by like minded individuals, but all of those common experiences were tainted by achievement goals, by performance expectations, by competitiveness. While I don’t want to class those as unappealing, my being swallowed by the bigger picture came while planting tomatoes on a raised bed in a back garden.
My love for growing vegetables, seeing flowers bloom and getting my hands dirty flourished about a year ago. Endless summer days spent in front of a computer screen in the spare bedroom of my Glasgow flat as a freelance writer didn’t exactly satisfy my thirst for human connection. As an introvert, I enjoy socialising in moderation. I enjoy connecting with people for no reason other than enjoying their company. Seamlessly, purposelessly.
And at this point in my life nothing about my social interactions seemed seamless. I was too worried about getting ‘out there’, too worried about networking, about going for pints even when I didn’t feel like it and nurturing relationships that demanded me to perform. Relationships with a purpose.
I freed my calendar of ‘girlboss’ commitments the first Wednesday evening I stepped foot on the green haven that is The Back Garden. I started slowly but surely recognising faces every Wednesday. There’s more than 50 of us, but faces rotate in hoards of around 5-20 people on our Wednesday sessions. Everyone loves harvesting strawberries on a hot summer day but most of us also brace the Scottish rain together.
All I had to do was show up. Be myself. Get on with whatever needed to be done, and listen to other people. Be. Nothing was asked in exchange. As time went by I started feeling attached to the quirks and small achievements of our community garden. I wanted the trees to flourish, I wanted the bees to be happy, I wanted the tomatoes to grow big and healthy and felt immensely proud the day we harvested 5kg of strawberries in one single session.
I am a G3 Grower. I am part of the small and engaged community others before me have created and others after me will continue to nurture. The community garden is a place where I belong regardless. Regardless of everything. I belong. Everyone belongs. With no conditions attached to it, with no part to play. Just dirty hands every Wednesday night followed by a blissful dinner in peace. Just community grown strawberries in my morning yogurt, home-grown potatoes for my tortilla and an overpowering sense of belonging I had never felt before.
That’s all for today, see you in a couple of weeks! I’m now away to dig dirt on my favourite night of the week.
Thanks for sharing this - I enjoyed recognising the sense of ease, & the space where both connecting and disconnecting are what people are there for. Starting as enthusiasts, and finding more - ourselves a little entangled with each other. The temporariness too, and maybe a fragility too, in looking after somewhere, and each other, which is maybe a little sad, that something that offers so much solace and friendship can break, and while that should lead me to value this sort of thing all the more, maybe I am still taking so much for granted.
As a fellow introvert, I can only say that this is amazing. The feeling of having to perform in every social interaction, the feeling that you should be gaining something from every chat, those are things I no longer live by (or at least I am trying to!). Find me googling for a similar place in Edinburgh...