Be Good Soil

As we age, our greatest contribution may not be what we accomplish, but what we cultivate in the lives around us.

Last week I found myself
surrounded by twenty-six faith leaders.

Yes, twenty-six (no, I hadn’t done anything wrong!).

When I was a kid,
that would’ve been enough clergy
to make me confess things
I hadn’t even done.

As we sat together,
I remembered my childhood Episcopal priest.

Every Sunday,
as we filed out of church,
he’d smile, shake my hand,
and offer the same benediction:

“Go do good work.”

Simple.

Practical.

Episcopalian.

Being the obedient overachiever that I was,
I took him literally.

So I did.

I built companies.

Opened hotels.

Started schools.

Wrote books.

Mentored founders.

Made lists.

Checked boxes.

Added more boxes.

I became so proficient at doing good work
that I occasionally forgot
there was a human doing it.

Then, during last week’s retreat,

I remembered Notre Dame philosopher Tom Morris’

framing for the second half of life.

His advice wasn’t:

“Do good work.”

It was:

“Be good soil.”

Now that’s a very different job description.

Soil doesn’t hustle.

Soil doesn’t network.

Soil doesn’t update its LinkedIn profile.

Good soil simply receives,
nourishes,
composts what no longer serves,
and creates the conditions
for life to emerge.

Maybe that’s the invitation of growing older.

To spend a little less energy
trying to be impressive,
and a little more energy
trying to be fertile.

Less obsessed with producing fruit.

More committed to becoming the kind of soil
where fruit naturally grows.

I’ve spent much of my life
asking,

“What should I do next?”

Lately,
a different question has been finding me:

“Who is growing because they’re planted near me?”

Perhaps that’s the real work.

Or perhaps—

after all these years—

it’s finally time
to stop working so hard
and start becoming
good soil.

That’s the ultimate legacy.