In search of my mother's garden, I found my own.

Looking outward leads inward

There's something about looking for what matters to someone else that accidentally leads you to what matters to you. Alice Walker's reflection captures this accidental discovery—how honoring someone's life or work can become a doorway to your own. You set out to understand their choices, their struggles, their joys, and somewhere in that process you realize you're also mapping your own territory.

This happens in smaller ways constantly. Maybe you're trying to understand why your parent loved cooking, so you start experimenting in the kitchen, and suddenly you're creating something entirely yours. Or you're reading about a mentor's career path, hoping to follow it, and you discover that what captivated you about their journey points toward something different for you. The garden you inherit isn't the one you end up tending.

The real insight isn't that we're all unique snowflakes. It's that self-discovery often requires us to look outward first—to pay attention, to care about someone else's story. The seeking itself changes us. We can't really find our own voice or path in isolation; we find it in relationship to those who came before, those we admire, those who shaped us. Sometimes the best way to yourself is through someone else.