The beauty in the seedling.

I grew up in a household of musicians and people who didn’t care much about the Curse of the Bambino, Red Auerbach, or Bobby Orr… all legends in the Boston sports scene when I was growing up. My father knew of all of it, but the details or following didn’t interest him much. He was an engineer for his job, but his love was music. He played the trumpet, and tinkered with the guitar. My mom played the guitar and violin.?

I was an athlete through and through- a far cry from my musically gifted parents.?While I loved growing up in house that played funk music and jazz legends on the turntable each night, I was forced to pick an instrument in elementary school that squashed my love of the idea of music as a hobby.?When I tried for the drums, I was directed towards the flute. As you would imagine, with such a pivot in instruments, I didn’t get hooked on music… at least not the kind played in the school band.

After a successful high school sports career, scholarships came in to choose from to continue my athletics into college.?You can imagine my parents happiness when I decided on an arts type major that limited sports and had me focus on passion projects and something they could understand a bit more. I am sure my practical father would have loved for me to pick business, finance, or something closely matched to a profession he could relate to, but he never showed it. He just wanted me to feel success and be happy.

My mother’s way of showing her interest in my path was to take me to all the local museums. The Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum was one of the first she brought me to. We went for the first time when the hanging nasturtiums were in bloom around my birthday- the beginning of April. Before the robbery and eventual addition to the museum, you used to walk into the museum in the most magical way… it would start fairly dark and one would be in what felt like the tightness of a palace servants quarters… you knew you were some place magical, but you couldn’t quite see it yet. Then, you would step up in the main part of the palace and there you were- facing the grand courtyard and all the famous blooms. The smell of the flowers and artifacts created a perfume like none other. I was hooked on the museum, the arts, and the power of unique experiences.

Nearly 25 years has passed since my mom took me that day, and I recently visited the museum again- this time with a friend who had never been. We timed it perfectly- the famous nasturtiums were in bloom again for their three week showing. It was simply awe-inspiring. We walked from the ground floor, up to the second floor, and then the third… we walked around each floor taking in the blooms from a multiple amount of angles and vantage points.?

We finally reached the top where the blooms were planted. I don’t know if I thought about the origins of the plants beauty upon arrival- the actual showing was distracting with it’s beauty. I may have thought it would be secret, or hidden from the public’s view. But, no. On the window sill, the three pots sat with their vines buoyed over the edge… no special vessels, no secret fence to disguise them- just a simple elegance to start this majestic scene.

Why bring this up on Linkedin? Simple- the message is clear. This is what great teams and ideas can do. You start with something simple, you nourish it, you learn about it, and you give it everything it needs to shine. A lot can come from the simplest of things if they are put in the right environment to shine.