Roots Rather Than Rot
My hopes and dreams are not figs.
I reject Sylvia Plath’s infamous fig tree illustration. I reject it because it once held me in a chokehold - spellbound by the concept of my rapidly rotting potential.
As most of you know, one of Plath’s most famous analogies portrays life’s many possible paths - the careers one might pursue, the places one might travel, the people one might become - as figs ripening on a tree. Plath imagines herself starving at its base, longing for each fruit equally. Yet her indecision leaves her paralyzed, and as she waits, the figs wither and fall at her feet, rotten and inedible. What emerges is a tragic image of wasted potential and shattered dreams, but also a classic tale of self-sabotage. The analogy is profoundly relatable, tapping into some of our most fundamental fears: inadequacy, indecision, and, ultimately, failure.
There was a time in my life when this illustration loomed in my mind like a self-fulfilling prophecy. I thought of my many interests and passions as a kind of predestined demise. Would I be a writer? A teacher? An artist? A lawyer, maybe. For a time I considered anesthesiology. But perhaps I would travel as a journalist. Oh, but I would be such a great news anchor, right? What about motherhood? Would I pursue any of these at all? Endless career options blossomed before me and I, too, felt paralyzed by the weight of my decisions.
What scared me most of all, however, was not my myriad of options, but the fragility of my life. Each of these ‘figs’ was more than a fruit to me, it was a chance to give meaning to my life, an opportunity to give value to my brief and fragile existence. It wasn’t the fear of missing out that rendered me irresolute, it was the chance that I would live a meaningless life and die with nothing to my name.
I don’t have this fear anymore. And I could write an entire piece explaining why. I could tell you how I’ve learned to trust God, how I’ve practiced surrendering my desires to His will. Or I could tell you how my once-scattered longings somehow narrowed into a single, clear path. I could even write to you about learning, in the words of Mary Oliver, to let the soft animal of my body love what it loves while the world goes on. All of these are true, and all of them are not. Regardless, I’ll spare you the details.
What I will tell you is this: your many passions and callings are not figs ripening above you - no, no, no. They are the roots of the fig tree that you are, drawing from every part of your complex personhood, nourishing you as you rise upward and carve your path into the sky. The world will try to convince you that you must choose correctly, quickly, definitively. But these factitious decisions are a distraction. Your personhood is not proven by the path you take, but by the life you live as you take it. Embrace the gifts you’ve been given, and let them hold you steady as you grow.
The Eighth Rule of Sophistry: Your path is not your personhood.
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loved every second omg
love this so much