One Woman Revival

We were walking through Golden Gate Park last weekend when my partner spotted a board announcing a “Dahlia Show” right next to the Botanical Garden. I had already dragged him to the tuber sale back in the spring and we had recently admired the latest dahlia blooms by the Conservatory of Flowers. So I was hesitant to subject him now to a pageant of flowers, but he did not seem averse to it and so we crossed the street to get a peek at the competition.

Inside the hall, I confess, it was difficult to know where to look. Each flower was an intricate masterpiece made of delicate folds and whimsical curls. Prize ribbons lay strewn at the base of those selected in the center but even the flowers which had not won anything were mesmerizing. All adhered to a color palette of crisp white to soft pinks, royal purples and demure yellows like debutantes instructed on the dress code for a ball.

I was having mixed results in my attempt to grow dahlias and so the array of exquisite clippings brought up a range of feelings. Admiration was among them but also envy and insecurity. I had intended for the labor of growing flowers to be a meditative task but now even that was subject to comparison. In my job, I am measured on metrics including revenue targets which are always presented relative to others. And day to day we are all exposed to an endless stream of social media content where we can assess each other’s achievements, vacations, and relationships.

Perhaps the solution to these external messages of value is to calibrate an internal compass based on what matters to us. But as I work to align who I am independent of everyone else; I am struck by the loneliness of it all. I have always been one to seek out people not for validation but for connection. It seems we must sift through each other’s vulnerabilities and neuroses to find that core person to whom we can loop a thread of goodwill. And then grasp onto that thin line of trust in hopes that we can find a way to relate.