Today I’ve been digging the garden out. I’ve let it go for a while, a physical manifestation of lowered interest. There are peppers and tomatoes aplenty, but they’re hidden behind tall grass.
The part of me that has a negative perspective looks at all the work and despairs. It tells me that digging out the garden is a futile effort. I will just have to keep digging until the frost comes and kills everything. Nothing I do will help at all.
The part of me that has a positive perspective looks at the fruits of my efforts and owns them. All the work of planting seeds, transplanting plants, and digging and tilling and weeding go into these tiny packages of things I can make some good food with. That part of me is looking at the now and connecting it to something decent in the future.
All of this effort is not futile. It gets me out of the house and into the sun. I get exercise that I badly need. None of my worries exist when I am digging. My arms are tired and heavy, but my heart is lighter.