About 6 weeks ago, a gift was dropped off at my doorstep. Wrapped in beautiful gold paper was a robin’s-egg blue flowerpot filled with earth and an ugly turnip-like bulb deeply set in the soil. Explicit instructions for the care and growth of this unknown treasure were attached—all I knew was that the bulb was an Amaryllis (whatever that was) that would bloom if I gave it what it needed.

For days and days I followed the instructions explicitly. Watering as directed, searching out the perfect spot—“your Amaryllis likes a warm spot indoors with indirect light until the flower stalk is tall.” Tall!? Who was kidding whom here? Absolutely nothing was happening. My bulb was a dud. Or my black thumbs and I were duds! By this point, though, I had invested way too much time to give up on my ugly duckling. So I watered and watched and checked the temperature and kept the plant in optimal conditions. This little blue pot and I played cat and mouse. I checked daily for signs of life and was met daily by a pretty blue pot with an impassive and unchanged lifeless bulb. And then it happened. My turnip sprouted its first long leaf. Over night about two inches of gorgeous silky green appeared. And we were off to the races this plant and I. I scrambled downstairs everyday to see what magic had transpired overnight. One day the stem and leaves grew 6 inches. I measured this phenomenon, slack-jawed in amazement as my plant arced toward the light. Before the flowers themselves made an appearance, the stem was close to two feet long! The flower’s buds were held tightly in their casings the way an oyster shelters its treasure. And then the first flower blossomed, and my ugly duckling was an elegant swan. Enormous blossoms of pink-tinged petals laced with a delicate light green in the flower’s deep center exploded day after day until four extraordinary blossoms caught the breath of every person who entered my home. The blossoms were enormous—each one as wide and tall as the span of my hand. After my flowers had bloomed, I was instructed to cut off the Amaryllis flower at the base of the stem, to fertilize it regularly for about 8 weeks. The plant needs to store food in the bulb for its next exuberant display. And then I need to take even more Draconian measures to enable this bulb to flower again. I am asked to give the bulb a rest by withholding all water so that the leaves dry up, to remove all foliage and to store my ‘turnip’ in a dark, dry place. No water, no attention, no food. Eight or nine weeks from now I’m allowed to provide water again. I’ll be looking for the first signs of transformation, this time trusting that the plant and I make a good team. If I give my Amaryllis just what it needs, it will reward me with magnificence.

The arc of my flower’s journey captured my interest at several levels. Beyond the delight of watching something exquisite emerge from dirt, I realized that many of my clients are on journeys much like my breathtaking Amaryllis. They plant an idea in the earth, but will they have the stamina and curiosity and flexibility necessary to see their ideas blossom? For most of us, when we have an idea, we water it and very often nothing happens. We water some more. We get frustrated. We may give up on our idea and stop watering entirely. We may get clever and try some different fertilizer. Maybe a little tendril makes an appearance - or maybe nothing happens. If only our professional brainstorms came with a beautifully typed sheet of care instructions—then we’d know exactly what to do to create success. I notice with my clients a pattern of over-zealous watering and fertilization in the first stages of the development of a new business idea. Energy is high, enthusiasm is abundant, patience has not yet been tested. When nothing happens, the impulse so often is to toss in the towel. It is the rare individual who is detached enough from ‘how’ he imagines his business will grow to really experiment, match his idea to market conditions to create a deliverable that others want to purchase. I had a client—we’ll call her Elizabeth. Elizabeth launched a financial services institution about two and a half years ago. She had deep experience in several key areas, developed a product and then went looking for investors. Wishing to conserve her funds, she spent her first year working from a home office. She was diligent; made countless calls to potential investors, spoke at seminars and symposia. But she was unable to grow her fund and was about ready to give up. We worked together for about a year during which time we explored what made her offer unpalatable to prospects. I asked her to survey 20 prospects that had said ‘no’ and seek candid information about what she needed to change. She needed clarity about what would enable her company to grow and blossom. The feedback she received was consistent and clear. Prospects liked her and felt comfortable with her level of investment expertise but she appeared rinky-dink to them. If Elizabeth wanted to attract investors beyond the friends and family category, she needed to take an office, develop and distribute professional marketing materials and hire a staff- at a minimum an analyst and someone to handle compliance and back office issues. Investors needed her business to look like one before they would even consider placing money with her. So Elizabeth did some soul searching about what kind of financial risk she was willing and able to take. She did not have kids or a husband, so the decision was really about how much faith she had in herself to grow a business. Spending more money was certainly no guarantee that her business would grow, but it was clear that she stood absolutely no chance without it. Deep internal reflection made the choice blindingly clear to Elizabeth. She withdrew money from her savings, took a small office and hired staff. Five months went by and no one invested. Elizabeth watched her savings dwindle but she hung in there. She knew she had a fine product that was finally packaged in a professional way. She plugged away, pitching her little fund until one day someone said “yes” and she was off to the races. So if you’ve got a project that is reminding you of my amaryllis—a lot of nothing happening for a looong time– I encourage you to step back and assess whether more water is needed or less or whether it’s time to fertilize or to let your project lie quiet for a while.