What Nature Taught Me About Success

Series: Roots Before Blooms
Journal 04

Today at the Bogor Botanical Gardens

For the umpteenth time, I found myself back at the Bogor Botanical Gardens for another long run.

I've honestly lost count of how many times I've run here. Hehehe...

At first, this place was simply where I came to run.

Now, almost every visit leaves me with a new journal.

Sometimes it's a giant tree.

Sometimes it's the sound of the river.

Sometimes it's a tiny seed.

Today, it was something completely different.

As I looked up at another towering tree, a simple question came to mind.

Has this tree ever produced fruit?

Honestly, I didn't know.

That question stayed with me for the rest of my run.

On my drive home, I suddenly remembered one of my science classes back in junior high school.

I don't remember all the scientific terms anymore, but I still remember one illustration from the textbook showing how a seed begins its journey.

The seed coat slowly opens.

A tiny root grows downward.

A small shoot reaches upward.

The stem becomes stronger.

Then one day, the first young leaves appear.

Back then, it was simply another lesson I needed to remember for an exam.

Today, I found myself looking at that same illustration very differently.

What amazed me wasn't how a tree eventually becomes tall.

What amazed me was how something so delicate could even begin.

The first roots are incredibly fine.

The first leaves are even more fragile.

Yet somehow they are able to break through the seed coat and slowly push through the soil.

I honestly can't explain how that happens.

I'm sure biology has a beautiful explanation.

But if you asked me today, I probably couldn't explain it.

All I know is that every giant tree I admired during my run began exactly this way.

What This Tree Taught Me

That simple illustration stayed in my mind all afternoon.

I kept wondering how something so delicate could accomplish something that seemed almost impossible.

Then another thought quietly came.

Maybe many things become complicated because I want to understand everything before taking the next step.

I want certainty.

I want to know where this journey will lead.

I want to know how long it will take.

I want to know whether everything I'm building today will eventually succeed.

Maybe the seed never worries about tomorrow the way I often do.

The roots don't argue with the direction they need to grow.

The young leaves don't resist the process.

They simply continue growing according to the life already placed within them.

They don't seem interested in controlling the journey.

They simply follow it.

Maybe that's why those tiny roots quietly find water.

Maybe that's why those delicate leaves eventually greet the morning light.

Not because they are strong on their own, but because they faithfully follow the design their Creator has placed within them.

Back Home

When I arrived home, I made myself a cup of coffee before opening my notebook.

As I started writing, another realization slowly came.

For a moment, I found myself thinking about how extraordinary the science woven into creation truly is.

Almost every time I visit the Bogor Botanical Gardens, I come home learning something new.

Sometimes it's about a seed.

Sometimes it's about roots.

Today, it was about how tiny roots and delicate leaves can gently break through a seed coat and even push through the soil.

The more I observe nature, the more I realize how little I actually know.

And strangely, that doesn't make me feel small.

It fills me with wonder.

Then my thoughts returned to the tree I had been looking at earlier.

Maybe I've been thinking about success too narrowly.

Every healthy tree in the Bogor Botanical Gardens is successful.

But not every tree succeeds in the same way.

Some produce fruit.

Others never become fruit trees at all.

Instead, they spread wide branches that provide shade for people walking beneath them.

Some develop deep roots that quietly hold the soil together during heavy rain.

Others become home to birds, insects, moss, fungi, and countless living creatures.

Their leaves faithfully produce oxygen that every living being depends on.

Each tree contributes differently.

Each tree serves a different purpose.

Yet none of them is trying to become another tree.

They simply become what they were created to be.

That thought brought me so much peace.

Maybe success has never been about becoming someone else.

Maybe success is faithfully becoming who we were created to be.

A Quiet Reflection

As I closed my notebook, I realized today's journal wasn't really about trees.

It was about the way I've been measuring success.

As I think about Nafisa Living, I know I'm still in the early stages of this journey.

There are days when I feel excited.

There are also days when I quietly wonder whether I'm doing enough.

I still don't know what Nafisa Living will look like five or ten years from now.

I don't know how long this season of building will last.

But perhaps I don't need all those answers today.

Just like the seed, I don't need to know exactly how every season will unfold.

I only need enough courage to keep growing.

To keep learning.

To keep showing up.

And to trust the process, even when I can't yet see the outcome.

Nature reminded me today that every stage has its own purpose.

A seed succeeds by becoming a healthy seed.

Roots succeed by finding water.

Young leaves succeed by reaching toward the light.

A mature tree succeeds by faithfully fulfilling the purpose it was created for.

Perhaps our lives are no different.

Today's Note

Not every season asks us to bloom.

Some seasons simply ask us to keep growing.

Today, I realized that this is success too.

Not because I've already arrived, but because I choose to keep growing, one day at a time, trusting that every season unfolds beautifully in His perfect timing.

olomi for Nafisa Living