JUST LIKE A SEED

  

 

Ahmet was the only son of a long-established family. Though he’d never admit it, everything in his life had been carefully arranged for him; he’d never really had to lift a finger. His grades in high school weren’t great, but that didn’t matter. “As long as he gets a diploma.” his parents said, and before long he’d graduated from a private university his family had chosen for him.

The same script played out when he got married: the house, the furniture, the lavish wedding, the honeymoon, even the clothes they’d wear on the trip had all been planned and paid for by others. At the family company, he was told vaguely, “You’ll handle coordination work.” No one really knew what that meant. Ahmet just showed up, played games on his computer, and still got his paycheck every month.

There was little in his life that bore the mark of his own effort. Maybe that’s why he so often felt restless and confused, and why he found himself escaping to Mehmet Usta’s little shoe shop.

The shop sat on one of those narrow backstreets in Beykoz that cut down toward the Bosphorus. Ahmet had met the old shoemaker by chance, during his best friend’s marriage proposal event. When the bride-to-be’s heel broke, it somehow fell to Ahmet to get it fixed.

“Typical, give them a hand, they’ll take your arm! What am I, a cobbler now? She should’ve brought spare shoes. Ridiculous!” he muttered to himself while wandering the side streets looking for his car and that’s when he spotted the small, dimly lit shop.

Mehmet Usta looked up and smiled, as if he already knew what was going through Ahmet’s head.

“Need some help, son?” he asked.

In two minutes, he’d fixed the shoe and handed Ahmet a cup of linden tea, as if that were the most natural thing in the world.

Months later, after a big argument with his father, Ahmet somehow ended up at the same shop again. When he saw the craftsman’s familiar smile, he felt both relieved and awkward.

“I was just passing by.” he said. “Thought I’d get my shoes polished.”

“Good thing you did.” the old man replied, and before touching the shoes, set a cup of tea in front of him again.

That visit turned into a quiet ritual. Mehmet Usta was unlike anyone Ahmet had ever met. Everything he touched seemed to come back to life, and every small story he told while working somehow gave Ahmet a new way of looking at things.

He never lectured. He’d simply start with, “That reminds me of a story.” and tell a short tale that always seemed to mirror Ahmet’s own life. Ahmet would leave the shop lighter, as if he’d found the answer he was looking for; like planting an heirloom seed that gives back a thousandfold when the time is right.

One day, the old man said something that stuck with him:

“You can’t leave the soil empty; what doesn’t give benefit, brings harm.”

That line pushed Ahmet to try planting something in his garden. “They say the earth absorbs stress.” he thought. But that wasn’t quite how it went. Digging the hard ground for hours only made him more tense.

Then came the fertilizer ordeal. He never would’ve imagined something like worm compost existed. He had to drive an hour with that smelly liquid sloshing around in the trunk.

“Wasn’t this supposed to calm me down? I’m even more stressed!” he grumbled, then suddenly caught himself.

He remembered what Mehmet Usta always said:

“No complaints. No complaints.”

Now his problem was that the seeds still hadn’t sprouted. He’d never had to wait for anything before. Patience was foreign to him. Maybe that was why growing something felt so difficult because the soil had its own timing. Too soon or too late, and nothing takes root.

One day, carrying that familiar restlessness, he found himself once again at the shop.

“Where have you been hiding?” asked the old man, smiling.

“I’ve been thinking about the seeds.” Ahmet said. “They don’t sprout right away. They sleep under the soil for almost a month, but it’s not really sleep. They feed off themselves. And they like well-drained soil, because too much water kills them.”

He repeated that last line a few times. Something clicked inside him, some realization about his own life. The old man must’ve sensed it too, because he just smiled.

“Gotta go, Master.” Ahmet said, and walked out.

It was the first time he’d ever realized that too much care could be just as harmful as neglect. “Why can’t I be happy when I have everything?” he wondered. But that tiny seed was teaching him more than anyone ever had.

He hurried home, he wanted to see it for himself. Nature, he realized, spoke louder than any human words.

When he got there, the seeds still hadn’t sprouted. A wave of frustration rose in him, but this time he didn’t quit.

“Keep going… This is the opposite of my whole life.” he thought.

He remembered the sports car gifted to him before he’d even turned eighteen, how exciting it was at first, and how ordinary it became later. Yet now, waiting for a tiny seed to break through the soil filled him with a kind of joy he couldn’t describe.

As he watched the hidden life under the soil, he felt the emptiness inside him slowly begin to fill. For the first time, something in his life was growing through his own effort.

“It takes work.” he whispered to the smiling face of his mentor in his mind. “Everything I touch holds a life of its own.”

 

The Experiential Design Teaching is about helping people discover their true purpose.

It guides them toward clear, conscious awareness so they can make the right choices and decisions. It offers practical strategies for solving real problems.

Programs beginning with “Who’s Who”, followed by “Mastery in Relationships,” “Psychology of Success,” and “Mastery in Avoidance,” help people become happier and more successful than the person they were yesterday.