Growing lifework is like growing a garden

I spent all day yesterday weeding, digging and planting. Seems risky considering two weeks ago we had enough hail to make it look like we had an inch of snow. But over the past few days it’s been a warm 70ish, sunny and dry. It feels as though spring has finally arrived in Redwood City.

As I planted my garden, I remembered my ezine post from last August. I wrote about how I uprooted a fern tree and then replaced it with flowering perennials. The process was fun, but also strategic.

I did a lot of research to determine exactly what would grow in clay soil and six hours of sunlight.  I talked with the garden specialist who had 30 years of experience growing plants in Redwood City. Based on his advice I even got rid of some of the most beautiful specimens I intended to buy. He assured me they wouldn’t grow in my yard.

He also told me that growing a beautiful garden can take many years of trial and error. It requires planning and planting, but also patiently watching to assess whether or not something is growing properly.

If the plant is not growing well, even after being watered and fertilized, then it needs to be moved to a better location or it will die. It may even need to go completely and be replaced with something more suitable to the environment.

So last August that’s exactly what I did. After hours reviewing my garden books and magazines, and after deciding on a theme of purple, lavender and cream colored flowering plants, I bought everything that was likely to flourish in my front yard.

Then I spent hours digging holes and arranging items in a stunning pattern. Pleased with my efforts, I sat back and watched.

As the days and weeks progressed, things slowly began to wilt, then die. Not everything, but at least a third of what I’d picked out didn’t work out.

Additionally, the plants that actually grew looked nothing like they did in the photo. For instance, the Blue Marguerite was supposed to mound. I imagined it would be a beautiful dome shape of purple daisy like flowers. But it didn’t dome. It sprawled.

Also, since a third of the plants died, the remaining plants looked oddly arranged. There were a lot of holes. Something had to be done.

Growing lifework is like this

You can research, strategize, and educate yourself about everything you need to know to grow a prosperous practice. You can define your ideal client, your niche, your unique selling point, your service offer. This is a great place to start. In fact, it’s an essential stage in planning, whether you’re growing a one-on-one service or a new workshop.

But the only way you’ll ever know if what you intend to grow will actually grow is to grow it. In other words, the only way to attract clients, sell a book, or earn an income is to dig in, plant yourself in your work, be proactive in making it happen and see what transpires.

If nothing happens you need to explore what’s stunting your growth. Maybe you need fertilizer (marketing). Or more water (passion). Or maybe you need to move things around a bit (find a new niche). You may even need to let go of something you love (workshop) because it’s just wrong for your environment (ideal client).

Example from my own lifework

Over the past few years, my own lifework has paralleled this process. For instance, I created a yearlong marketing program to teach service providers how to grow their work.  I offered three, 12-month programs over a two year period.

The first one went well, but few people were actually engaging the work so I changed how I taught the classes. As a result, participants in the second class engaged more, but they became overwhelmed and they fell behind. When I started the third group I taught it in a completely different way. More people engaged and even set up great websites, but by then I knew the 12-month format was not ideal for my clients.

After some reflection and experimentation, I realized I was offering way too much information for most people. It was like I was flooding my flowers instead of just giving them a good a dousing. People were drowning in information. I had to pull back my efforts and think smaller. Essentially, less is more.

But I never would have learned this if I hadn’t actually done it.

Growing lifework that flourishes is a lot of trial and feedback, a lot of waiting and seeing.

And once you think you have it all figured out, that you have the perfect service for your people, it might suddenly grow in a completely different way than you imagined possible.

It might even stop growing completely. If this happens you need to determine if you require more fertilizer (marketing) or water (passion) or even a new location (niche).

It’s not always obvious what’s halting the growth, either. You might think it’s a lack of marketing initiative that’s keeping clients away, but it might actually be an offer that isn’t interesting.  It could be anything. Sometimes an expert can help you figure it out. Other times you just have to experiment.

But it’s a good idea to always pay attention and respond, making adjustments as you go (or grow).  If you don’t, everything can die beyond its ability to come back.

The truth is, growing a beautiful garden is not for the faint of heart, nor is growing lifework. Neither situation is something you plant once then enjoy indefinitely by sipping iced tea on the veranda.

Indeed, growing somewhere great, whether it’s a garden or lifework, requires conscious attention, thoughtful response and an unattached mindset that lets the work take on a life of its own (with some guidance from you, of course).

It can be magical, mysterious and a whole lot of fun, until it’s not, and that’s all part of the process.

This year’s garden

My newly planted garden is filled with completely different plants. I moved my salvia to a new location in hopes that they’ll grow better. I planted annuals this year, marigolds and cosmos. I also planted a colorful array of ranunculus, my favorite flower, throwing caution to the wind and diverting from my purple and cream color theme.

Now I have to wait and see what happens. Will the soil be too dense for the marigolds? Will the sun be too bright for the ranunculus?

Only time will tell. In the meantime, I’ll do everything I can to help it grow somewhere great.