Let’s Cultivate
If you look up the word cultivate, Merriam-Webster’s first definition is what you’d expect: “preparing soil for growing crops.” But it’s the second definition that resonates most with me: “the act of fostering growth, especially in the improvement of someone or something.” Fostering growth. We can cultivate vegetables. But we can also cultivate a new skill. We can cultivate health and wellness. We can cultivate relationships. The list is endless. It’s all the same generative energy: growing things, creating something from nothing. It’s the energy of positive growth. Cultivate is one of my favorite words. It has weight, momentum, and heart—and I love words.
So if cultivation holds this broader meaning, what does it mean to have a cultivation practice?
When I founded Mother Magnolia Cultivation, I wanted a simple, open-hearted call to action: one that was both broad and deep. “Let’s Cultivate.” But what does that motto really mean? It means embracing the idea that our life’s work is about creating, growing, learning, and offering something meaningful to the world. As humans, we thrive when we feel a sense of progress.
We started our YouTube channel a little over a year ago to share stories and content around all aspects of cultivation—not just the work we do on our 32-acre farm in Oregon’s Willamette Valley, but the many ways we can each cultivate a life of purpose and meaning.
“Let’s Cultivate” is both an invitation and a movement: one that combines the energy of personal growth with the essential energy of connection. When we connect with the spirit of cultivation, we tap into a deep human need to create. And when we share that energy with others, we begin to build community.
Whether you’re cultivating a writing practice or growing tomatoes, the act of making something and then offering it to others is powerful. And so the question becomes: what are you cultivating? And how do you stay with it? How do you maintain that cultivation practice through all of the seasons of life?
There are so many things we can cultivate. But at its core, I believe all cultivation moves through four essential stages.
First, the seed phase.
The importance of seeds, to the planet and to us, is profound. There’s even a global seed vault in Svalbard, Norway, buried deep in the permafrost near the North Pole. It holds the genetic code for over 1.2 million cultivars, protecting them in case of disaster. That vault exists because someone believed in the power of a seed. All life starts here. Seed energy is big bang energy.
Whenever we begin something new we plant a seed. Even a massive sequoia begins with a seed the size of a pinhead. But for that seed to grow, it needs the right conditions. Timing matters. Soil matters. The season matters. Starting something in the wrong season is an uphill battle. But when we get it right and we lean in to a moment of commitment with a clear vision, big things can happen.
That’s why planting a seed begins with intention. We need to be clear about the why, the when, and the what. Once we are clear on the timing it starts with a simple statement: “I will do this because I must.” That’s the seed. That’s the spark.
Second, the seedling phase.
This is the fragile stage. I remember when we ran 30 acres of hemp in 2019. Watching 30,000 seedlings struggle under the early summer sun was nerve-wracking. The early stage of anything is fragile; it takes real care and focus to get it rooted. But also, seedlings are are vital and bursting with life.
When you’re starting something new, it can feel awkward. But you also have a ton of energy that you want to devote to your new cultivation project. This phase demands discipline, rhythm, and trust. To stay steady through the seedling phase, I rely on three key tools.
First: a strong why. When your reasons are clear and deeply personal, they carry you through the discomfort of the early days when you’re shaping the new routine.
Second: an accountability partner. On our farm, our team holds each other up. Systems and routines keep us aligned with our mission. But it’s the teamwork that keeps the system running smoothly. For me personally, my wife is my anchor. She listens, she checks in, and she is my eternal north star calling me to do the work.
Third: you’ve got to be okay being bad at things. Seriously. Being willing to be terrible when you’re just getting started is a superpower. You’ll find proof of this all over my YouTube channel. What matters is showing up anyway and doing the work. As I get older, I get more and more obsessed with process. The seedling phase is about acclimating to this process-driven rhythm that requires a willingness to be mediocre as you find your way.
Third, the flower phase.
This is when the thing begins to take shape and the practice is in full bloom. But like any good garden, it needs maintenance. Weeds appear; pests arrive. Habits get tested by life’s curveballs, whether it’s sickness, injury, burnout, or busyness. The flower phase is about staying in the work, adapting to the conditions, and honoring the rhythm of your life.
We don’t always notice when something important slips away until it’s gone. For me, it was my fitness practice. One day I looked up and realized I had let it go. I could list all the reasons (injuries, work, stress) and I could likely defend and justify them all. But the truth is: I allowed it to slip away. I had a deep and long-term practice with my fitness and yet it still slipped. The flower phase is about recommitting to your process as your life evolves and things shift. I recommitted to my fitness alongside my 16-year-old son and I was reminded how powerful discipline and community can be.
A set schedule brings structure. And community brings momentum. When I owned a CrossFit gym, it was clear: the collective effort created accountability. Everyone was pulling together. That kind of support keeps us going. These days, working out with my son brings the same fuel. It also gives us a great moment to connect and talk about things that are on his mind which is an incidental benefit of our time in the gym together.
Fourth, the harvest.
This is the celebration. The reward. The moment when effort becomes result. Fruition. Another great word, fruition literally means “the state of bearing fruit.” These are the moments that keep us motivated to continue to cultivate the deeper layers of our practice.
And yet, for me, this has always been the hardest phase. I’ve often struggled to truly celebrate my wins. I’ve felt like I’d jinx myself, or that celebrating was somehow self-indulgent and hubristic. But that’s a mistake. Celebrating the harvest matters. These moments refuel us for the road ahead.
For me, my favorite “harvest” moment is family time in Hawaii. It’s our sacred space. No distractions, just ocean, sun, and connection. Arguably, raising a family has been my greatest cultivation practice. And when we’re together, everything slows down. The laughter, the beach, the stillness: this is the prana, the life force. We need to celebrate the wins. To pause, to say “Amen,” to soak in what we’ve created. We only get one life to cultivate meaning and legacy. If we want to leave something of value behind, we must show up again and again—with heart, with rhythm, with hope.
Find your why. Root into your practice. Show up for what matters. Celebrate the hard work.
