At some point last year I became obsessed with this quote, “Don’t let the seeds spoil the watermelon.”
When I say obsessed, what I mean is I might have had watermelon napkins, a watermelon notebook, watermelon screensaver, watermelon home/lock screen…just to name a few ways my obsession spilled over into my real life.
Watermelons became a physical symbol for another aphorism I believe with my whole heart: A bad day doesn’t make a bad life.
It is so easy to caught up, overwhelmed, inundated (and a whole list of other anxiety-ridden words) in the set-backs and negativity that I can forget how much of what I do is pure joy. Watermelons help me remember to take a big bite of what is good and spit out the rest. Savor and enjoy the sweet stuff. Don’t chew on the seeds…spit them out…let it go.
Full disclaimer: I don’t eat watermelon. I never have. I have major texture issues. So I have held on to this metaphor with very little experience related to real watermelons.
The other day I bought a new-to-me breed of watermelon for my guys.
This new fangled fruit got me thinking all over again about those pesky seeds. If we have figured out how to get rid of the literal seeds, why can’t we engineer a way to get rid of them figuratively?!
Obviously…I had some questions for google. If you want the long answer about diploids crossing with tetraploids to produce triploid plants…this is the link for you. The short version is that watermelons without seeds can’t reproduce. They are sterile. In fact, for these plants to grow fruit at all, they must grow alongside watermelon plants with seeds.
I am officially re-obsessed with watermelons.
I am newly obsessed with their seeds.
In this profession and in this life, if there is one thing that I want to do with consistency-it is to bear fruit. I want for there to be season after season of watermelons. I want for others to grow because they are planted near me. Which means…my life is going to have some seeds.
Looking back, the seeds that I am so quick to discard, are often the most valuable part of the experience, though usually not my favorite. This year’s seeds turn into next year’s harvest, IF I will:
- Collect them-take an honest look, an assessment of what is going well and what isn’t.
- Replant them-try again
- Water them-commit myself to continued learning and improvement.
Still learning…from a fruit I don’t even eat.