Overgrowth and Pruning Shears

Sometimes you don't know where your boundaries are until you've crossed them. You don't know how much you can drink until you're drunk, I didn't know how many kids I wanted until I'd had enough...That kind of thing."Boundaries" has been a buzz-word for everything Christian and relational over the last several years, and with good reason.

Boundaries are essential. So is maintenance. In my experience, pretty much everything organic requires a little bit of both.

I have a good friend who places a high value on healthy boundaries, but he's not so fond of pruning. I know that sounds incongruous, but it's not really. He just takes a different approach. Turns out he's rather fond of overgrowth. 

I suppose there are two schools of pruning thought. One would say prune the bush down to nothing, then it will grow lush the next season. Often that's true. But what if your bush doesn't need to be cut all the way back? What if it just needs some shaping?

That's where a visionary pruner comes in pretty well handy. 

A few days ago I caught an episode of HG-TV that was profiling this man and his garden. I think it was called "A Man Named Pearl". Pearl is no ordinary name for a man, and it's a good thing too, because Pearl is no ordinary man. Pearl prunes enormous hedges into amazing works of art. He's a sculptor, really - with an electric trimmer and some shears. His garden is his opus. It's pretty cool. 

Anyway, it got me thinking about pruning. And sculpting. And relationships. And writing.

Back to my good friend - the overgrowth guy. He would rather spend his time and energy cultivating growth rather than cutting and hacking and being on border patrol all the time. His philosophy (metaphorically speaking, of course):

"Let the bush overgrow. You can always prune it back if it gets out of hand."

In his experience, giving people freedom to make mistakes is a much better model of leadership than a tightly adhered to set of rules and regulations.

I know what you're thinking - it's a nice theory, but it's not always easy to accomplish. Overgrowth is messy. It also requires risk, and once bitten is often more than twice shy.

Ever tried to grow your hair out to get it to the next stage? It can be absolutely maddening! If you're one of those people who straightens the towels in other peoples' bathrooms or has to have your pantry organized according to food genre, then this concept of overgrowth might prove challenging. I'm just saying ;)

As many of you know, we recently moved to a new house. Thankfully, all the front landscaping was in. All we need to do is maintain what's already been planted. There are several large bushes along one side of our yard that need trimming, and to be honest, it's been bugging me. My husband takes care of the yard work. It's his Saturday thing. He does such a great job keeping everything else trimmed up and cut back, I couldn't understand why he wasn't trimming these particular bushes.

At first I asked, rather innocently - "Are those our bushes or the Eastwoods'?" He assured me they were ours. A couple weeks later I asked, "Do you trim the plants and trees every time you cut the grass or just as needed?" He patiently explained that every week he does the grass cutting and then picks one or two trees or bushes to trim as well. Eventually it all gets done and then he can start back at the beginning. 

Ok, I thought. He just hasn't gotten around to these particular bushes yet. He must have started at the other side of the yard. But the longer this went on, the more I realized he was deliberately ignoring this row of now mangy looking bushes. I finally did what I should have done in the first place. I asked him straight out - "So, what's your plan for these bushes over here?" 

"Those?" he said, pointing. "Those I'm letting overgrow."

"Why?"

"Because whoever was shaping them before we moved in had them pruned funny. I want them like this." He walked over and drew an outline with his hands of where he wanted to boundaries of the bushes to be. "If I kept trimming them the way they'd been trimmed before I couldn't get the shape I wanted."

"So...you've been ignoring them on purpose?"

"Yup."

"Oh." (Insert sheepish grin)

He smiled. He knew it had been bothering me but was willing to wait until I asked him about it rather than offer a premature explanation.

Allowing the overgrowth in order to let a new shape to evolve takes patience (something I am obviously lacking!) as well as vision. You have to be able to see the new thing burgeoning within and wait until its boundaries are long enough and wide enough to be trimmed into submission, as it were.

There are two schools of thought in writing as well. Some authors agonize over every word and sentence, often working all day long to get a decent paragraph out. Others will write what Anne Lamott calls crappy (PG) first drafts, forcing themselves to worry about quality after the fact. 

Obviously, crappy first drafts are the overgrowth of the writing landscape. Sometimes it's hard to see the potential in a piece if it's trimmed too tightly at first. Allowing it to bush out and get a bit unruly (pun fully intended) can actually refresh your vision - allowing you to see your own writing in a way that you might never have imagined it before. It's not just the editor's job to prune. The author takes the first several stabs at it, and believe me, it's a heck of a lot easier to work with overgrowth than it is to try to add thickness to sparse, spindly stories after the fact. When authors do that it becomes obvious that characters and scenes were added as filler, or to answer questions about holes in their plot. It's not organic.

By the time it gets to an editor or agent, there needs to still be enough shape to allow them to catch the vision you have for your work. And if it's the same old shape that editor has seen on every other house on the block, what is there to recommend your work over another?

My husband could have just kept trimming our bushes the way the last people did. It wasn't as if they looked horrible. They were fine. But he looked beyond what was and toward what could be. He chose to make room for the new thing, and in doing so, he chose against the old. Rather than maintaining someone else's vision, he created his own unique expression of what our yard could be. 

I'm the first to admit I sometimes get uncomfortable with overgrowth. It's a little scary, because it feels out of control. Then again, it's the only way to change old boundary lines. Sometimes the old boundary lines just aren't appropriate for the new landscape.

If I can encourage you with anything for your writing today, I would say, don't be afraid! And don't get your pruning shears out too soon...Let it grow, let it grow, let it grow!

Madison Richards bites her nails while watching to grass (and bushes) grow in the great, hot, southwest. She can be found blogging here and there, and writes for The Master's Artist every other Tuesday.

Comments

[BJ Hamrick]

I'm trying to be a shaper. Really, I am. Great analogy. Thanks!

[Michael Snyder]

Yeah, good thoughts. My current novel-in-progress is a shapeless blob of overgrowth...yet somehow I'm still managing to get bogged down with trivial details.

I believe you used the word "maddening."

Mike

[Madison Richards]

Thanks BJ and Mike -

I've been trying to "reshape" my body with a thrice-weekly muscle/cardio class since we moved, and God knows reshaping takes a lot of work - especially when one has allowed for too much "overgrowth" in previous seasons! Still, it's worth it in the end - even the bikini one!!

Grace,
Madison

[Jeanne Damoff]

Love this post, Madison. Didn't get a chance to read it till this morning after posting mine, and I like the way they complement each other. I've never been one to favor military neatness in a garden. I like it a bit wild, with blended edges--more watercolor than acrylic. More impressionistic than rigid.

Though I might straighten a stranger's bath towel, when it comes to art, I want the passion of the artist to stir my soul. If he has mastered technique, it will serve him. Not the other way around.

All the best with your body and bushes!
Love, Jeanne