Nothing: not the slightest tremor of activity. I wonder what prevented the seed from relinquishing its tightly packed, unyielding pod in exchange for the nimble form of a sprout, a chrysalis opting to remain a chrysalis instead of unfurling into the freedom of a butterfly. I treated it the same as the other two seeds, giving it just the right amount of water and sunlight. Why was this effort not to its liking?
I am curious, but not upset, nor do I feel as if I failed. I find the notion of failure/success in the context of this project has slowly faded away. When I first committed to making this project happen, possible failure was foremost in my mind, especially since I have chosen to share my movement through the project with others. It is one thing to fail privately within the limited scope of the cocoon of one's own self-knowledge and awareness, quite another to fail openly, in the vast and airy expanse of unbounded existence. So perhaps the chives seed was afraid of failure, just as I was (and maybe still am a little bit, but in other venues). Timid in the twisted face of the unknown--existence as a sprout--it nestled closer into the plush, enveloping blanket of soil and bound itself tighter in its compacted sphere of existence, like a fist, clenched so tensely that its fingernails bore into fleshy palm to poke through the back of the hand, fastening a permanent anxiety.
I wish the chives would have inched out of this self-imposed stronghold, but I understand why it didn't. I know I did my best to encourage it to come forth into the world, and I enjoyed tending to it despite its decision to remain encased and comfortably hidden away beneath the soil.
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