Life is Dynamic
“No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it’s not the same river and he’s not the same man.” I distinctly remember being introduced to this idea of change put forward by Greek philosopher Heraclitus as a wide-eyed and inquisitive pre-teen. I was struck by how such a simple statement could carry such profound truth. Bodies of water are in constant flux — as they interact with their surrounding environment and the elements. Similarly, with every passing moment we experience, something about us changes. You have a new thought or your hair grows a fraction longer. When I was younger, my grandfather who is very much a philosopher in his own right (I’d say most Nigerian elders are), would always say, “life is dynamic, the only thing that’s constant in life is change”. It used to always make me laugh when he’d say this at what seemed to 12 year old me to be the most random occasions. I think I get it now though. Ostensibly, a lot has changed in my life since January 1st 2023. I am no longer a university student, I live in a new city and I have a full time job for the first time. These changes are very easy to notice, they’re the type of events that may warrant an IG post or a LinkedIn update (whichever way you swing) — but this year has made me reflect more deeply on the nature of change. Specifically growth.
Growth seems to be a process that is universally sought after. I remember between the ages of 13 to 16, it was always fun to see who’d grown the most over the summer with surprises popping up year after the year. I’d hope that my genetics would activate and while there was no Anthony Davis style growth spurt I was happy when I found that it was finally time to replace the comically oversized blazer my mum had the foresight to buy when I was 13, as I got to Sixth Form aged 16 because there was now just a bit too much wrist showing to pretend it was a fashion statement. In fact, our whole economic system is built around this idea that continuous growth is desirable and when we see two successive quarters where there is a lack of economic growth, we call that a recession, an outcome governments actively try to avoid.
On a personal level, I hate feeling like I’m stagnant. Dave has a bar on ‘Disaster’ Ft J Hus from his acclaimed debut Album Psychodrame, which goes “This time last year/You were on the same block, standing there/Smoking, gossiping, chatting bare” which not only makes me laugh but also sends shivers down my spine every time I hear it. Not because the lyricism is particularly impressive, but because when I imagine being in the exact same position a whole year later, engaging in the same futile activities, I get filled with a sense of dread.
Does that speak to a lack of satisfaction with my current circumstances or an insatiable desire to feel like I’m doing “better”? I’m not entirely sure. I am happy for where I am in my life for now, and I am grateful for the year I’ve had, but there were points where I found myself thinking “What do I have to show for myself”. My time was consistently occupied as always but when I looked around, I struggled to see the fruits of my labour. This was in stark comparison to the previous year where it felt like almost every week there was a new development for me to be excited about. This contrast between explicit signifiers of growth and what seemed like monotonous stagnation made me question myself. Now that we are at the end of the year, thinking back to this mindframe makes me laugh, because of how off the mark it was, but I understand why I thought that way. Much like an economist (which I most definitely am NOT), my measuring stick for growth was focussed excessively on direct output and outcome — things like how many pieces I have written and how many job offers I had received — perhaps a symptom of being conditioned to prioritise ‘productivity’ . I now realise that a lot of the growth I’ve experienced has been hard to quantify and not as exciting as having your first ever article published by a magazine. My knowledge of self and sense of purpose has become deeper and I have started to overcome patterns of behaviour that were detrimental to me on multiple levels. These aren’t things that you can add to your CV but that doesn’t make them any less significant. While I felt like I was stuck in one place, it didn’t mean that I wasn’t progressing, I was just using the wrong metrics.
This has compelled me to think about growth differently. I am no horticulture expert and my knowledge of plants is very much limited to what little remnants of information from my IB Standard Level Biology quizlet I can scrape from the depths of my mind. That being said, thinking about how plants grow in the natural world has given me some interesting principles to apply to how I think about growth in my own life.
Pruning is a necessary process
I remember the first time my dad explained the concept of pruning to me as a child. I didn’t get it. How could cutting parts of a plant be beneficial to its growth? The answer is held in the definition of pruning as “the removal or reduction of parts of a plant, tree, or vine that are not requisite to growth or production, are no longer visually pleasing, or are injurious to the health or development of the plant”. These parts aren’t removed for the sake of it, they are removed because their presence is no longer required, they ruin the aesthetic, or they are actually detrimental to the plant’s growth.
As it relates to my life, I’ve realised that part of my growth this year has actually been reckoning with familiar parts of myself that aren’t conducive to positive outcomes. For example, this year I have had to really confront what I guess is a fear of being seen to fail publicly. Growing up, I think I became so attached to upholding the perception that I excelled in things that I did, that whenever it seemed that I wasn’t up to standard I would be thrown off completely. A perfect example of this is the time I cried in front of the church when I was asked to play the keyboard (it’s okay, you can laugh). I won’t go into detail now but I was asked to play last minute and young me felt desperately unprepared — I felt incredibly vulnerable with so many eyes witnessing what I interpreted as my inadequacy and as a result the waterworks took centre stage. I had a moment of deja vu in my final year at uni where I went to a jam session at church — when it was my turn to go on stage I refused because I felt equally unprepared (I didn’t cry this time though so that’s something). That moment was humbling and forced me to ask myself what exactly I was so afraid of and what had been holding me back. If I flopped, who was going to die?
I believe that pride had a big part to play in this. Not in the way that one may conceptualize pride, but looking in the mirror I could see that I had a seemingly flawless image of myself which I wanted the outside world to see. The thought of being seen as anything less than would be a disaster. Essentially this excessive emphasis on how people saw me meant that I was becoming a slave to the perception of others at the expense of my own growth. I didn’t want people to think I wasn’t great, so I wouldn’t even try. And when years would pass and I was in that same spot standing there, I’d beat myself up. Something had to give, and it did. I’ll go into more detail at another point but on two separate occasions this year, I dj’d in front of people and felt completely out of my depth. On both occasions, the quality of my djing left plenty to be desired but I am proud of myself for finally having the courage to ‘fail’ publicly. Just like pruning, this wasn’t particularly comfortable but it was necessary.
You need rain to grow
I was watching Loyle Carner’s breakdown of his song Ottolenghi yesterday and a particular lyric struck a chord with me — “without all the rain there’s no stunning growth”. Rain is essential to life on earth but when it falls we often find ourselves complaining and I get it.It’s not particularly pleasant getting caught in torrential rain but similar to pruning, it’s momentarily uncomfortable yet necessary. I often reference 2020 as a difficult year for me as I found myself in the eye of the storm, but I needed that “beautiful rain” to be who I am today.
The day you plant the seed is not the day you eat the fruit
Patience does not come naturally to me. Maybe I am the victim of growing up in a time where instant gratification is ubiquitous, from social media to microwavable meals (you won’t catch me eating rustlers though). Whatever the reason, I struggle with waiting for things and it has stifled my growth in different areas. One of the differences I always note between my brother and I is in this area. I tend to pick things up relatively quickly, but if it’s initially too difficult for me or I get bored I just drop it. On the other hand, he may take slightly longer to grasp something but he possesses the patience to develop such a deep understanding of whatever it is he’s doing. This is exactly why he’d smoke me if we played a game of chess right now.
The little life I’ve lived so far has shown me the value of patience though. While change may be constant, it isn’t instant. Many of the opportunities that I have been blessed with now are the fruits of seeds planted years before, whether that was writing in my school newspaper or nurturing my curiosity in a range of areas. Thinking about patience has reminded me that very often consistency trumps intensity. If you forget to water a plant for 6 months then pour 6 months worth of water on it in one go, you won’t get your desired outcome — again I’m no expert. In the same way, going to the gym every day for a single month in a year probably won’t do as much for you as going twice a week for a whole year. I have had to remind myself that the future me will be grateful for the seeds planted when I eat the fruits and beyond that, the fruits may not be for me to eat but for others.
I was speaking to a friend recently who told me that I’d done well for myself this year and I should ‘soak it all in and give thanks to God’. Ironically, those incredibly kind words felt like gentle reproach because unbeknownst to them I had been so fixated on the seemingly endless list of things I felt the need to do to set myself up that I hadn’t taken the time to express gratitude for what has been a truly wonderful year. You can’t see growth if you don’t remember the starting point and having reflected, I am grateful to God for bringing me to the end of a new year in good health and with plenty to be thankful for. This year I have had the privilege of experiencing so much celebration and joy, which is something that can never be taken for granted in the world we live in. While I do have an idea of what I’d like from 2024, who knows how the year will go. The only thing I’m certain of is that life is dynamic, so things will have changed and all I can do is ensure that I can take pride in the new man who takes a step into the new river and that will be enough.
Happy New Year!
as always
connect the dots…
love,
ETP
