Shuckin’ peas

We grew sugar snap peas this year in our garden. It turns out they grow well in Cool, California. The vine began with colorful blossoms and tendrils that eventually grew into a wall of green. Each time we thought we had collected our last yield, we would find yet another crop to pick. I had never eaten fresh snap peas. I became instantly hooked! They are sweet as sugar, as their name implies. It’s hard to stop at one pea or two. Before you know it, your fingernails are bright green.

We finally came to the end of our gathering, and it turned out to be a good-sized bowl of peas. As I stood at my sink, shucking peas for the first time in my life, I worked at falling into the groove. Each pod contains at least five to six small peas. The husk doesn’t quickly release its tiny gems. Eight out of ten pods would require running my finger through the pods.

As much as I love the bounty my garden brings, about 20 peas in, staring at the large bowl full of so many more peas, already sporting bright green fingernails, I began to feel impatient. I invited my yoga wisdom to make an appearance and lull me into a rhythm. That wayward yogini, hands down, refused to help me out. I think she was a bit miffed that I had been devoting so much time to my book instead of her. I couldn’t blame her. (Bygones. Let’s get over that.)

My mind gravitated toward a topic to think about while shucking all these damn peas. No surprise, I found myself thinking about my upcoming book release. At first, that was an exciting thought. But pea after pea I, unfortunately, made my way to stressful and anxious thoughts.

But this latest endeavor has a special place in my heart. The dream of becoming a successful author has let the dreamer out to play. I don’t strategize about making a living. Instead, I dream of blogging and writing books for years to come. I wish for an audience that hears me, enjoys my story, engages with me, and keeps coming back.

A small order, right? Shucking peas leaves a lot of room to think, stress, and dread. (How did I go from enjoying my garden’s bounty to envisioning a crash and burn for my book?)

But shucking peas would, in the end, bring me around to a general understanding of life and my writing. Every harvest will be different. Some years will be a bumper crop. Other years the yield will fail.

One thing was clear, no matter the number of minutes spent shucking peas and worrying, I would find no answers. I could spend time worrying about failure, or I could envision success. I decided it would be a lot more fun visualizing victory.

Staring down at my fingers green with the success of this year’s pea crop, instead of washing my hands, I spent time scrubbing in nature’s gratuity long before I rinsed.