”Then I want to make a hole,” says Zoey, digging her index finger into the damp soil.
The sun warms our backs as we sit here in the garden with soil, seeds and seed pots in front of us.
”I want one,’ Zoey says, reaching for the sage seeds I have in one hand.
”"You can take a seed from here and put it in the hole you just made. And then you can cover it with soil afterwards, just like we did with the other seed.".
Zoey concentrates hard on grabbing one seed from my hand. That's hard for a two-year-old. I try to spread the seeds apart so she can get to them more easily. Zoey grabs three or four seeds and tries to put them in the hole. Maybe one, more, or none of them will land in the hole.
She covers the hole, gets the small watering can and waters the soil. The water pours out with such force that the soil is swirled around in the small seed pot, and finally flows over the edge of the pot.
I feel an impulse to intervene, to control the situation. Because now we basically have no idea whether there is even a seed in the seed pot or not. I detect the impulse before I can act on it, and then help Zoey put the watering can down. We sit and watch the water slowly seep into the ground and soak the seed pot.
”Now we're getting strawberries,” says Zoey, and I remind her that we planted strawberry plants yesterday.
”If we take care of these seeds we just planted really carefully, and if we’re lucky, we’ll get sage,” I say. ”What is it?” Zoey asks, looking a little disappointed.
”It's a herb. It tastes really good with pasta, for example.”
”I wish it was strawberries,” says Zoey.
I tell them that if we are lucky and take care of the strawberry plants and make sure they have water, we might get strawberries too. We don't know. We'll have to wait and see until summer.
”It's hard to wait,” says Zoey.

Zoey and I have spent many hours in the last few weeks sowing seeds and planting, both indoors and outdoors. It is as if this corona lockdown has intensified the experience of spring here at our place. We have had an infinite amount of time to experience the various bulb flowers emerging from the ground, and we can care for and inspect the seeds we have sown several times a day. So far, it seems that we have actually managed to place at least one seed in the vast majority of the seed pots. The excitement and joy of following the unfolding of life in each individual seed pot is great for both Zoey and myself.

The cucumber plant in particular is awe-inspiring because you can almost see it grow hour by hour. That's how it feels. As if you can see life itself in motion, like a small miracle unfolding before our eyes.
I feel that I can sow a seed, and I can do my part to encourage a certain development for that seed, but I can't control the process. It reminds me of being pregnant. You can do a little to help the pregnancy in a good direction, but most of it is beyond your control. Maybe that's why every little sprout feels like a gift of life. And maybe that's why sowing and planting with my daughter gives me a feeling of coming into contact with the unfolding of life as such. Well, in general. On our windowsill, in our little garden, between us, and yes, in a way on the entire globe. That's how it feels. And Zoey helps me have that experience. With her presence and immediate excitement or dissatisfaction. And in the way she expresses her wishes, which makes me really feel the gift in what we might be allowed to receive. And my desire that sowing for her should not be about achievement, so that I therefore discover my own impulse to control, helps me. Zoey and spending time with her teaches me something about letting go of control. And I practice. Every day. To surrender…to life itself.

Jeanette Lykkegaard
is an anthropologist and has written a PhD thesis on life and death processes among the shamanistic Chukchi people living in eastern Siberia. Jeanette is particularly interested in the part of human life that is not immediately visible. She is part of the team behind Kontemplation, where she has participated in a number of courses and retreats. She receives teaching and practical guidance from Hanneli Ågotsdatter and Peter Høeg.