You’re Growing, Even If It’s Invisible

(upbeat music) Headspace Studio. Hey, it's Dora here, and welcome to Radio Headspace. So I have a friend who's determined to rewire the way that she connects with others. She's working to shift from anxious attachment, constantly seeking reassurance, to something steadier and more secure. She's reading all the books, saving the therapy, TikToks, journaling, attending workshops, everything that you can think of. Initially, the aha moments were coming at her fast and furious, and she was loving it. But recently she noticed the revelations have been few and far between, and her old ways of being have been harder to break. Half jokingly, she texted me, "Why am I not healed yet?" I laughed and not at her, but because I knew exactly how she felt. We're so used to immediate results. You order something online, you get it the next day. You Google a question, you get immediate answers. But healing, growth, real deep change for the most part, doesn't work on demand. Today I wanna talk about something that might be cliche, but they're truly one of our greatest teachers. The patience of seeds. There's an old story from Hindu philosophy about a farmer who wanted his crops to grow strong and tall. He had done everything right, prepared the soil, planted at the perfect time, and watered diligently. He woke up early each morning to check the field, waiting for the first signs of green to emerge. And when those tiny shoots broke through the earth, he felt that rush of satisfaction, proof that his efforts were paying off. But then came the waiting. At first, he told himself to be patient. Growth takes time, but the more he stared at his field, the more he convinced himself that he should be doing more. He had worked so hard, wasn't there something he could do to speed things up? So he started adjusting maybe more water would help. He doubled his watering schedule, more sunlight. He cleared anything that cast a shadow. He even spoke to the plants, encouraging them, willing them to grow. Still, the progress felt too slow. He had done everything right and yet there they stood barely taller than when they started. One morning in his frustration, he had an idea. He knelt down and gently pulled on the chutes, stretching them ever so slightly, hoping to speed up the process. The next day, he did it again and again. At first it seemed like it might be working. Some plants even looked a bit taller, encouraged he kept going. What he couldn't see was what was happening beneath the surface, the roots delicate, still forming, were being disturbed. Instead of anchoring deep into the soil, they were struggling to hold on, the more he pulled, the weaker they became. Meanwhile, his neighbor took a different approach. He also woke up early, checked on his field, and tended to his crops. But instead of interfering, he simply watered them and he trusted...