The Dumpster Fire and the Garden

a little fable that continues to help me find my way

Calling something a ‘dumpster fire’ has become pretty commonplace.

Entire years (2020) and categories (politics) have been overwhelmingly declared dumpster fires. People and places have been dismissed entirely as nothing but this. This usage of dumpster fire has even found its way into the dictionary:

One day while playing around with trying to animate on Procreate, I doodled a girl dancing next to a dumpster fire.

The image was striking to me. It seemed timely and almost aspirational: Yes, there’s a dumpster fire, but dance on! The fire rages on, but dance anyway!

At first glance it made me laugh, but over time I found a sadness in it. (I’m great at that!) Is the answer really to just ignore the problems and party? Sure it’s great to dance, but is that our best and only option? Should I have drawn the little girl putting out a dumpster fire?

So I drew a girl putting out a dumpster fire:

As honorable as this might be, I felt sorry for the little fictional firefighter. She’d have quite a battle ahead of her. Once this fire went out, she’d surely have to jump to another. Her endless task would be hopping from dumpster fire to dumpster fire.

Then it hit me: isn’t this kind of what creating things on the internet can become? Checking in daily to see what everyone is angry about and then adding to it? Endless doomscrolling until something even more urgent appears for you to doomscroll about? Commenting on comments about comments? I don’t want to just add to the dumpster fire.

As they say in classic infomercials: “There has to be a better way."

A story began to take shape. I knew the girl needed to leave the dumpster fire, but wasn’t certain where she would go. A theme park? Home to post about it online? Target?

I thought about the opposite of a dumpster fire and was reminded of the farm.

Much of my childhood was witnessing the slow, steady work of farming. Spending time with pigs and plants and dirt and seeds will do a lot for a person. I saw my dad and uncle put seeds in the ground and patiently wait for nature to take its course. I watched and helped as every effort was given to provide each plant its best chance at life.

Over days weeks and months, seeds were surrounded with care. Soil was nurtured. Preparations made. With time, there was harvest.

What if our energy isn’t meant to be spent on dumpster fires? Maybe our work is meant to be a slower, quieter, nurturing of a garden. Maybe one of the biggest parts of our work is just being able to recognize which is which.

I’ve been able to share the story of The Dumpster Fire and the Garden in several different settings. For children, it invites them into a more mindful way of placing their attention. For CEOs, though they’re in a much different place of life than kids, it’s the same lesson. My favorite stories are ones that are true for fourth graders and forty-year-olds at the same time. No matter your age, it’s a reminder for all of us that even in the midst of flashy and destructive things, there can be another option. I needed it.

Yes, Virginia, there is a dumpster fire. There is also a garden. Something else to know: There are gardeners. Lots of them.

You’re one of them.

Store - I have several Dumpster Fire and The Garden pins left over from an event! Get yourself one as a handy reminder to nurture the good.

Work - Here’s a few ways I’m teaming up with groups this year. Let me know if I might can be of help to you in your mission somehow someway!

Podcast - I’m thrilled to share this conversation I had for Kindness.org and their ‘Why Kindness’ podcast. Take a listen:

Apple Podcasts: 

Spotify: