You reap what you sow 🌷

Photo by Lukas on Pexels

It started with a question I stumbled across on Sara’s Instagram. We'd met briefly at the recent seminar, and something about her way of asking — quiet but sharp — stayed with me.

She asked: 

“Is what you're doing engagement — or just flow?”

At first, I thought: Aren’t they kind of the same? That deep dive into a task, the disappearing sense of time, the satisfaction of focus — isn’t that the whole point?

But the question stuck. And slowly, I began to realize:

Flow is lovely. But it’s not the whole story.

That single question grew into a reflection on where I truly invest — and where I just float, on what nourishes me, what depletes me, and what I hope to grow.

Photo by AS Photography

Beyond Flow – Digging Deeper

We often romanticize “flow” as the gold standard of engagement — that sweet spot where time disappears and effort feels effortless. But true engagement goes deeper. It’s not just about feeling good while doing something — it’s about why we do it, and what grows from our actions long after the moment has passed.

Photo by Markus Spiske on Unsplash

“Would I still do this if no one noticed?”

Sometimes the answer reveals love. Sometimes it’s a warning that you're pouring from an empty cup.

Give and Take:

Organizational psychologist Adam Grant describes three broad reciprocity styles: givers, takers, and matchers.

• Givers focus on others. They help freely — with time, knowledge, or effort — often without expecting anything in return.

• Takers focus on their own gain. They tend to extract value from relationships rather than contributing to them.

• Matchers believe in fairness. They give, but only when they believe the other person will return the favor.

Givers are often the most generous — and the most exhausted. If they’re surrounded by takers, their contributions get drained without replenishment. But when givers find each other, or are supported by matchers who recognize and reciprocate, incredible things grow.

I’ve come to realize that I’m a giver, and I don’t want to change that. But I’ve also learned that soil needs nutrients, too. If nothing comes back, not even the hardiest plant will thrive.

The Fields I’m Tending

Friendships:

Some connections feel like planting seeds in rocky soil — no matter how much I water, nothing grows. In one such friendship, I’ve decided to stop tilling the ground alone. If the other person ever returns with a shovel, I’ll be glad to see her — but I won’t keep dragging the wheelbarrow by myself.

It gets tiring to be the one always reaching out, suggesting dates and activities, at some point, even the most willing gardener sets down the spade.

Family / Household:

At home, I’ve begun something I call “gentle disengagement” — letting the laundry wait, letting the milk run out, letting things slide that used to define my sense of responsibility. Not out of neglect, but as an act of self-preservation. If I’m working full time, the invisible chore fairy is officially off duty — and no, groceries still don’t buy themselves.

The Magazine & Hockey Life:

There’s a lot on my plate — being a Hockey Mom, creating team videos, writing for the local magazine. The funny part? I never mind lugging the camera around or spending hours editing footage. I love shaping stories, capturing moments, giving energy a place to land. That work nourishes me.

What drains me is all the mindless, repetitive stuff that cuts into that time: the laundry piles, the endless grocery hauls, the mental load of figuring out what to cook every. single. day. That’s not engagement — that’s erosion.

If I could trade all the grocery lists for more camera time, I wouldn’t even hesitate.

I’m the one who plants, and I don’t mind working hard. But I need people who bring shovels, not just picnic blankets. Life isn’t a picnic – so don’t just show up for the flowers and snacks.

Photo by Evangelina Silina on Unsplash

What You Plant Matters

It’s not just that we sow — it’s what we sow.
Plant criticism, fear, resentment, or hopelessness — and weeds take over. But plant curiosity, gratitude, openness, and motivation — and you might just wake up to a blooming field of tulips.

Photo by Jill Wellington on Pexels

The Forest Speaks Back

Today, the forest spoke back.

A gentleman from the local citizens' association called — politely, kindly, asking if I had a minute. Then, he told me about an upcoming event in our nearby woods, where a local expert will teach people to recognize bird calls and learn more about their habitat. And then he asked, Would you like to write about it?

No doors to knock on, no persuading, as it tends to happen often. Just someone handing me a seed and saying: We believe this could grow — with you.

It reminded me of a German saying:
„Wie man in den Wald hineinruft, so schallt es heraus.“
(The way you call into the forest is the way it echoes back.)

Photo by Steven Kamenar on Unsplash

Maybe all those hours spent sowing with care, showing up, listening, engaging, do make a difference. Not always right away. But eventually, something answers. Sometimes it even sings.

Where are you planting right now? And what’s growing from it?