The Power of One

The Power of One

We were born onto this beautiful spinning blue ball one day. We will die one day. In between we live this life one day at a time.

But somehow the numbers get complicated:
Six point six billion humans on the planet. (And growing.)
Nine point four trillion dollars in U.S. national debt. (And growing.)
Three ninety-three per gallon. (And growing.)
Three hundred eighty-seven parts per million. (And growing.)

When numbers gets complicated I try to keep it simple. What can I do as one person? What can I do this one day?

I plant seeds. It is both my vocation and avocation. I plant seeds one at a time. One may germinate. One may not. I plant another.

Lettuce seeds, like new ideas, are very small. They seem almost to disappear in my palm as I pour them out of the crisp, clean packet that came in the mail. I plant them in rows, but have a special affinity for those individuals that germinate outside the rows. Maybe I dropped one by accident. Maybe it’s a volunteer from last year’s lettuce that bolted and went to seed during the hottest days of August. Either way I cannot bring myself to take the hoe to it even if it grows boldly in the middle of a path.

This head of lettuce, like a good idea, grows rapidly and flourishes even where it seems not to belong – especially where it seems not to belong. But not all is what it seems.

Seeming is in the eye of the beholder. “Perspective prejudices perception,” claims farmer Elliot Coleman. He sows seed too. And then over winters the plants in unheated greenhouses on the coast of Maine. This thriving business started as a small idea one day.

And so that one seed, that one lettuce seedling, that one gorgeous head of lettuce is sitting there in the middle of my garden path. And sometimes it’s a pain in the ass. I have to step over it, walk around it. That renegade breaks up the symmetry of the garden. But it is that one flaw - the spirit line - that makes everything else possible. It is humility and respect. It is hope. It is worth stepping over and walking around. It is worth hand pulling the weeds along its flanks. It is worth kneeling beside on that one day on which it will be harvested, washed and eaten. It is a celebration. It is a victory, for every head of lettuce not shipped from California is a victory. It is the power of one.