It was a busy holiday season, and over the two-week break where I tried my very best not to work (mostly succeeded), I’ve missed writing! So I’m glad to be back with this little diddy on compost, which is always about more than compost.
I felt like a hot mess leading up to the holidays. I was busier than I like to be, and I have this tendency to feel weirdly victimized when I’m overscheduled—as if I have no say in my commitments, and that they aren’t aligned with how I want to spend my time (they almost always are).
When I’m due for an attitude adjustment, building a compost pile can be very cathartic. Its scrappy, imperfect nature reminds me not to take things so seriously; most of life doesn’t require precision, just attention to a few basic principles. The physicality of the task metabolizes whatever energy I need to rid myself of. And, I’m not quite sure how to put this last one into words, but… I find a lot of forgiveness and reassurance in composting. A feeling of, “you can’t really get this wrong” and “just do your best and you’ll adjust along the way”. The pile itself is forgiving, and so is the practice. And the act of being responsible for at least some of my own waste - food waste - feels at least a little redeeming (if not too strong a word).
Ever since our big landscaping project, I’d been without a household compost, thankfully able to take our food scraps to the community garden in the interim. With all the holiday meal plans, I knew the scraps would be plenty, so building a new home pile was high on the priority list. (Also high, because: free therapy.)
As I grappled with a task list that was really more of a perfectionist’s wish list, and my parents arrival fast-approaching, I tapped into the creative part of me that doesn’t do overwhelm (isn’t it great we contain multitudes?). She suggested, “maybe Dad would actually enjoy creating a compost pile with you.”
So, I asked him. Not only was he down, he woke up early to collect bags of leaves from their yard in DFW which he stuffed into the car for the 3-hour drive to Austin. My Dad’s love language, as far as I can tell, is being of service. By asking for his help, I wasn’t adding to his plate, I was giving him a chance to express that love.
I had originally thought I needed to get everything in tip-top shape so my parents could just relax and float through the holidays without lifting a finger. But y’know what? Sometimes people want to sweat, I know I do! They want to help make an elaborate meal (my mom’s love language), do a workout together, or pitch in on a project.
People are constantly touting the importance of “community”, but I don’t think most of us even know what we mean by that. It can feel abstract. My take: Gathering is great, but you know what’s even better? Creating something together.
So, here is a reminder to myself and to you: invite others to create things with you. It could be anything, big or small, but do it together and see if it feels any different than gathering without creating, or creating without others. And please, report back :)
Wishing you a very Happy New Year! And excited for the things that will be created and shared this year, right here.
PS: I wrote down a few things I want to let go of this year and will hand them over to the belly of the compost to process for me. I call this composting my feelings <3
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