The Year of Sequoias
Every year around this time, I listen to the latest Yearly Themes episode of Cortex, crack open a new Theme System journal, and ponder my goals for the year ahead. I try to think of my yearly theme by considering "where I’ve been, where I’d like to go, and how I’d like to grow on the way” — while reflecting on these questions, the turbulence and pain of recent years combined with the anticipated flux and transition in the years ahead of me stood out the most. I’m in a season of challenge and change, and it’s so often the case that these periods are ripe opportunities for renewal and growth. The imagery this drew to mind was that of a horrible forest fire incidentally clearing the underbrush and fertilizing new life in the flame-hardy giant sequoia trees of eastern California's Sierra Nevada mountains. Sequoia trees grow to towering heights over thousands of years, and evolved during this time to endure extremely harsh environments — including forest fires, which historically benefited sequoia groves, with their fire-resistant bark and heat-triggered pollen cones. The resiliency and longevity of the giant sequoia serve as an apt analogy for my current situation and goals, and helped lead me to my theme this year: The Year of Sequoias. Part of the inspiration also stemmed from my favorite line in one of my favorite poems:
Invest in the millennium. Plant sequoias. Say that your main crop is the forest that you did not plant, that you will not live to harvest. - Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front, by Wendell Berry
This line (really, the entire poem) captures quite well what I am striving for in the Year of Sequoias — thinking about my choices and priorities on a "millennium" time-scale, improving both my physical and mental resiliency, and forming more meaningful and lasting connections with others. The Year of Sequoias, to me, is an opportunity to grow in that fertile soil of challenge and change into the person I'd like myself to be in the next decade, rather than just the next year. It's a chance to consider carefully how what I do, say, eat, play, and care for impacts others around me...and others a millennium away. After all, planting a sequoia tree means thinking with future generations in mind, and leaving behind gifts instead of curses.
I’ve made the mistake in previous years by creating too rigid of a rubric for my themes — usually work-related components with specific grading criteria that did not work well for my brain and ultimately left me dissatisfied. I tried something a bit different with the Year of Sequoias by incorporating more “soft” targets and “heart and soul” scoring in lieu of hard-and-fast metrics. I've broken the Year of Sequoias down into three primary components: "Strengthening My Bark", "Deepening my Relational Roots", and "Planting for the Millennium" — I'll expand on each a bit more in the rest of this post, and touch on some of reasons for choosing these specific theme tenets. It'll be a bit personal at times and certainly a bit off-color from what I usually write, but right now getting these thoughts written down and published somewhere feels important to me. Take what you will from it.
Strengthening My Bark
This is the most "ordinary" branch of the Year of Sequoias — resolving to become more physically and mentally fit has been a big priority for me in recent times, and I'm hoping to take that resolve to the next level this year. The biggest change in the Year of Sequoias moving forward is increasing my focus on the physical side of "physical and mental health". I've spent a lot of energy in the last two years trying to stay mentally-resilient and sound (haven't we all?), and I feel I've found stability in my current therapy schedule, various anxiety-taming strategies, and general worldview. Turning my attention towards physical health has meant going on more (and longer) walks with my wife and our dog, and joining her in more Apple Fitness+ workouts (usually pilates). My wife just marked the milestone of closing her rings every day for a year, which is an example I'm hoping to emulate this year (or, at least try to). For now, I'm off to a good start:
I've never struggled with my weight, but I've certainly never devoted the time and energy to fitness that my body needs. I still don't think I'm disciplined enough in my exercise habits, and I'm hoping that the Year of Sequoias keeps my eyes focused on shoring up my physical health and better preparing my body for the unknowns in life. If the pandemic has taught us anything, it's that you should never take your good health for granted.
Deepen My Roots
My dad died about a year ago as I write this of liver failure. He struggled with alcoholism for much of his life, and as a result he and I had a strained relationship. In the weeks after his passing, the thing that struck me the hardest was how isolated he was in his final years...and how that extreme isolation was indicative of his lifelong tendency towards solitude — few friends, and fewer still close connections. The context of The Quarantimes only amplified my strong reaction to his bare apartment and lack of connection. We've all probably struggled with unusually potent feelings of loneliness in recent memory, but so often (especially for introverts like myself) we do little to address these feelings, like reaching out to the people in our lives. The Year of Sequoias means actively prioritizing my “root system” — that is, the connections and relationships in my life. Like roots, some connections are small, tendrillous, and fleeting — others are entirely vital and require constant nourishment. Both varieties, however, bring richness and life to the tree (and, in this metaphor: to me) that it cannot go without. I’ve long been someone who has been content with few close friends, and sometimes even cagey with my time and my vulnerability with others — no doubt traits I inherited from my father. In the Year of Sequoias, I aim to fight these habits and actively seek out connection with others — strangers, acquaintances, co-workers, friends, family, and loved ones — to develop deep and lasting roots that (ideally) will be life-giving resources when harsh seasons inevitably come to pass. Every reaching root will look a bit different — it could be a kind message on Discord to a complete stranger, or an extra game night with my circle of friends, or even a week-long escape to Mexico with my wife (COVID-allowing 🤞). Whatever the case, my goal is to remember that each root I form necessarily adds to who I am; I can't pretend that "I don't need very many friends" or "I'm comfortable alone" when I know that's not true! "Deepening My Roots" means prioritizing both passing friendships and life-long bonds so that one day when drought strikes, I'm not starved for water.
Plant for the Millennium
This section of my theme is the "fuzziest", but in many ways is also the most crucial to me. "Planting for the Millennium" to me means adjusting my perspective from "now, this week, or this month" to "this year, this decade, and next generation". It's knowing that even my small decisions can and will impact others around me, perhaps for a lifetime, and acting accordingly. I'm hoping that "millennium thinking" finds its way into every area of my life — in small things like how I behave to strangers on the internet, and in big things like career decisions, life priorities, and what I build and leave behind when I'm gone one day. I mentioned before that I'm in a season of challenge and change; "Planting for the Millennium" feels most relevant to me in the context of the changes going on in my life. Whether it's the hunt for our first house (bad timing, I know), or my imminent transition from PhD student to...something more, or in spending time with my fast-growing nieces (who I swear just yesterday were one and two years old), I've noticed "millennium thinking" creeping more and more to the forefront of my mind. I ponder my career and what actions I can take to lead changes and elevate our lab's work, my wife and I discuss at length our goals and how we choose to serve our community, and I see myself as a role-model to the people around me and try to carry myself as such. This aspect of my theme is entirely about a change in perspective resulting in preferred behaviors and attitudes; I am under no illusions that I am doing or building anything that will truly "matter" in 1000 years — but that doesn't mean I can't think that way in hopes of making better choices and leading a happier life.
Renewing A Theme
Although I am writing and posting this in early 2022, I’ve been living the Year of Sequoias for the better part of the last year as well. I’ve had mixed results, and the theme feels entirely incomplete (perhaps due to its ambitious scope!), so I'm renewing it for the upcoming year and redoubling my efforts in doing so. I think that some themes strike so deeply and fit a season of life so well that the “yearly” in “Yearly Theme” is easily and eagerly discarded in favor of an "extended" theme. I'm hopeful that the Year of Sequoias ends up outlasting it's designated duration and helps me grow into more of who I want to be — after all, surely each of our Yearly Themes (if successful) is anything but "yearly" in their impacts on our lives.
If you believe that it is possible to grow without change, you are probably neither growing nor changing. - Merlin Mann