“I saw my life branching out before me… From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked,” Sylvia Plath narrates in her semi-autobiographical novel The Bell Jar.
“I couldn’t make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.”
I first read this excerpt as a much younger version of myself, someone far more anxious to live and to live correctly, whatever that meant. I resonated with Plath’s illustration of wanting so badly to select the proper path in life, the proper “fig,” that you make no choice at all and end up going hungry your whole life.
My own metaphorical fig tree looked similar.
One fruit invited me to be an author. Another, a therapist. Many figs bore the names of different places I hoped to travel to, or sights I wanted to see. There were hobbies: guitar-playing, photography, graphic design, among many more. There was yoga and, branching out as a smaller bud beyond it, the faint calling to become a yoga teacher.
There was so much I wanted to do, explore, experience, and accomplish, and yet, like Plath’s protagonist, I sat heavy upon the roots of my fig tree and waited anxiously.
I never tried yoga or worked seriously on my writing, and my guitar sat longer and longer untouched in the corner of my bedroom. Even if I tried my hand at photography I would drop the hobby quickly after. I never made it to Morocco, or Scotland like I’d dreamed.
It felt that choosing one meant rejecting the others. The more time I spent on one thing meant giving up another dream forever. That common saying, “jack of all trades, but master of none,” rang around in my head. I thought that the only way to live correctly was to become a master of one, but there I was, not even able to become a jack of all trades.
Growing up, it still felt impossible to unfreeze my limbs from the state of decision-making paralysis I had wormed my way into.
By that time, Sylvia Plath’s metaphor of the fig tree had found its way into the hearts of social media commentators. Around 2024, the advice “don’t let your figs rot” grew viral on platforms such as TikTok, Instagram, and YouTube, as people urged each other to embrace life, let go of their fears, and take charge of their futures by trying everything.
If you want to become a seamstress, start that summer class on introductory sewing. If you want to live in New York, start planning out the rent.
Don’t let your figs rot. Don’t let opportunities slip by. Don’t live with regret. Do everything.
That was the general advice. Amongst other things, I felt it encouraged me to accept myself as a jack of many different trades, someone who dipped my toes in many ponds of life instead of concentrating on a single path. And I think this advice is definitely one I will be keeping with me.
But there are, of course, limits to this.
Maybe you have a dream that is no longer feasible. Maybe you have a dream that is simply impossible to realize. Sometimes not every ambition can be achieved, whatever the circumstances may be.
That being said, it’s OK to let your figs rot.
And it’s OK to grow new figs from the decay of the old. Metaphorically, peel the skin and use the seed as a catalyst for new endeavors.
What I mean by this is: take your unattainable ambition and examine the desire at its core.
For example, maybe one of your goals was to go cross-country backpacking, but it’s not a possibility anymore due to financial or health limitations.
At the core of this desire may be many different things you want from the experience: freedom from a routine life, physical movement when you’re largely sedentary, to explore another culture and its food or languages, or to see beautiful sights you’ve never seen before.
You can still achieve these mini desires.
You can create excitement in a routine life by changing small things in your day-to-day schedule: the clothes you wear, the route to work, the hobbies you engage in, the people you interact with, and more.
To satisfy a desire for movement and time spent in nature, you can take fun dance courses or try rock-climbing. To learn more about different cultures, you can try out a cookbook from a different culture, visit new restaurants and museums, learn a different language, or watch travel documentaries.
To see beautiful sights, you can spend time in local nature, such as the beach or parks if accessible, and hike gentler nearby trails.
If you still want to travel, but maybe you’re a full-time student on a budget, try a semester abroad program, where you can keep learning while visiting a new place. Or, if you can sit for long periods but struggle with the excessive walking that comes with backpacking, perhaps try an Amtrak ride through different states for a train adventure or a classic road trip with friends.
Another thing to keep in mind is that it’s OK to turn down or postpone opportunities; it doesn’t mean they can’t come around again.
I had to reject an internship opportunity due to health problems at the time, even though it was something I had really wanted to do. But I understood that, in that phase of my life, taking on another responsibility on top of everything else would have been too strenuous.
If I hadn’t let that fig rot, if I had accepted the internship despite my limitations, I might have burned out in the long run and caused more problems for myself later on. I would have regretted taking the opportunity more than regretting not taking the opportunity.
The point is to be gentle with yourself. We are not infallible, and most of us aren’t always capable of having everything. Sometimes an opportunity leaves, and it leaves forever. And that’s OK.
It doesn’t mean you can’t have a beautiful life, or that there aren’t any more things to do.
Letting a fig fall and fully rot is an opportunity for wonderful change. It’s a chance for you to form new desires, new things you want out of life.
In recent years, I’ve taken yoga classes on and off. I’ve largely abandoned my guitar, but I keep it around in case I ever get the urge to play again. I do graphic design a lot in my spare time, and writing I do even more. Maybe not the way I initially imagined when I was younger, but in a way that best suits my interests today.
In college, I’m studying to be a psychologist. My dream of becoming a therapist feels somewhat closer on the horizon. And I have realized many, many more desires in the wake of older ones that never came true.
Maybe it’s because I’m still pretty young, but I don’t feel much regret about any lost opportunities, because I know that old desires have a way of recycling themselves into new ones. And that there is still so much time to enjoy them.
Ultimately, we should try to not let our figs rot, but also accept it if they do.
What ambitions are growing on your fig tree? Let us know at @HerCampusSJSU!