Composting: Personal Growth from Transformational Soil
Use Life’s Pain and Disappointments to Build a Rich Life
To save my sanity in the years between my separation and my divorce, I found myself outside a lot, digging in the dirt, adding plants to the beds and new flowers to the pots on the back patio. There was something about planting new life in my old beds and pots that soothed my hurting soul and felt cathartic. I might not feel like new life was possible, but as I could see plants growing and flowering around me, I held onto slivers of faith that I too would once again thrive and bloom.
One weekend when the kids were with their dad, I escaped the emptiness of my house with a trip to visit my brother and his family in Northern CA. I found respite, not only in their company, but in their beautiful organic garden. My brother and I spent some time together there, talking and working, where the cyclical nature of life was evident. There were new plants taking root in small pots, flowers in full bloom, vegetables to be harvested, and a huge compost pile.
I was mysteriously drawn to that compost pile, which is odd if you know anything about compost. What looks like a gross pile of rotting and decomposing produce, eggshells, coffee grounds and leaves is actually, with planning and some labor, where all of these ingredients transform into a valuable fertilizer that enriches soil, gardens, and plants.
Looking at that compost pile one morning, I realized that I could see my life in it. Transformation happens in the compost pile, and divorce was my personal composter. I could suddenly sense the potential for all of my mess - the dead, the broken, the expired - to be transformed into something life giving.
The decomposing produce represented parts of my life that had nourished me at one time but were now past their natural expiration date, like it or not. To continue to hold onto the past could lead to a slimy mess, one that I didn’t want to take forward into my new chapter. Dead leaves were parts of me and my life that had outlived their season. They once served a purpose and were full of life, but it was now time to let them go as I transitioned from one season into the next. Weeds were the thoughts and beliefs that I needed to uproot and get rid of - shame, perfectionism, self-judgment, fears, unworthiness; they were choking out my happiness and growth.
The eggshells had multiple meanings in my life. My marriage was, at the end, nothing but an empty shell. All life had slowly drained from it over the years leaving something that was easily but not painlessly shattered by my ex’s infidelity. While I felt as broken as the eggshells scattered throughout, I had faith that something good would come from the breaking.
I could see the theme of a hard outer shell in other parts of my life as well. I had felt increasingly stifled in our relationship, not allowed to be myself, and certainly not valued for who I was. I had created a wall around me to protect myself from criticism, but now that wall was holding me hostage. I was numb to criticism and some of the pain, but that meant that I was also desensitized to the good all around me and greater joy. I saw hardened ideas, like believing that I was a failure because the marriage ended in divorce. All of this was limiting my ability to envision and create my next chapter.
Scanning the pile, I saw shredded newspaper, reminding me that yesterday’s events can become fodder for growth when broken down and processed, the lessons carried into different chapters of our lives. Ashes from the fireplace called to mind the mythical phoenix rising from the ashes, creating new life from what had been destroyed. Coffee grounds reminded me of that wonderful parable about the carrot, egg, and coffee beans. (PLEASE take a moment to go read this parable if you aren’t already familiar with it!) The metaphors for creating something beautiful out of all that was broken were abundant in that compost pile.
My divorce was composting me.
What I have experienced since that day in the garden is that while decomposition happens naturally, transformation is a choice. I can be the gardener doing the work required to turn the pain and disappointments, mistakes, and imperfections into “soul compost,” or I can sit in the messy mix Life is, unchanged and feeling stuck in the yuck.
Composting is not easy work. Garden compost has to be watered and turned over; soul compost requires the same. Many tears have watered my personal compost pile; I’ve turned those experiences over and over in my head, looking for the lessons. I have had to dig into the bottom of myself, into the dark corners and painful places, in order to give air to some of the really messy parts of me. I’ve discovered that pain is like a strong smell, when you bring it out into the fresh air, it will dissipate with time.
“We don’t change, we don’t grow, and we don’t move forward without the work.”
This realization was transformational. I was going to have to continually put in the work, or I’d stay in my own oozing and smelly pile of brokenness and hurt. My mess could be become the soul compost that nourished my post-divorce life.
While I was only beginning to understand my own growth cycle that day, I have come to see purpose in the experiences that left me feeling barren and broken. They allowed me to grow. My life today would not be as rich if those messy, hard things had never happened.
Brene Brown (The Gifts of Imperfection) wrote that “Courage has a ripple effect.” I believe transformation does too. I think that my friends would say that watching my growth post-divorce has made them more willing to see what “composting” they can do in their own lives. Friends have shared that they felt called to work toward forgiveness, have courageous conversations, face fears, share struggles, and ask for help because I shared what I was doing in these areas of my own life. It is in this way that my work to create “soul compost” has not only fertilized my life, but the lives of those around me, and hopefully those who encounter me through my writing too.
Plants, gardens, and lawns can survive without the benefits of composting just as people can survive without doing the work of inner transformation, but my life wouldn’t be as rich if I hadn’t made that investment in my own growth. Rather than sitting in the slimy discards of brokenness, I am bearing good fruit and beautiful flowers. And I love being able to share them with you here.
