Relentless—

How Consistent Effort is Powerful Enough to Produce Growth and Change Your World

The first meadowlark of the season calls to me on my morning walk, then quickly flies to the next fencepost and calls again.

Today, instead of listening to an audiobook, I’m listening to the morning. Golden banner lines the roadway, one of the first wildflowers to bloom here in the spring. Lupines will not be far behind.

It’s not long before I notice a small group of willow sprouts pushing up through the asphalt on the edge of the road, heaving it upward like a highway crumpled by an earthquake. 

I can understand a roadway buckling from the force of an earthquake. The force required to shift the ground is no doubt more than strong enough to create the upheaval of a four-inch thick layer of asphalt—even a two-foot-thick bed of concrete. I have no trouble accepting that as possible. 

What blows my mind is the idea that a bit of plant fiber has the necessary force to push its way through a seemingly solid surface.

If this phenomenon does not embody the essence of persistent effort, I can’t imagine what would. 

Willow sprouts with their woody stems probably have more strength to push through the asphalt, but I’ve seen golden banner and lupines do the same, and they don’t have woody stalks. 

And it would stand to reason that if a plant can grow through packed soil, it can get through asphalt, which is, of course, gravel and sand held together with a viscous, elastic substance as binder.

But how?

When I asked Google that question, I found some interesting answers. Most of the posts centered on the idea of a seed landing in a crack, taking root, and forcing the edges of the cracks to grow. It’s remarkable to see a plant take root in whatever crack it’s fallen into. To make that spot—however undesirable—work for them by widening the crack.  

The willow shoots pushing up the asphalt I saw on my walk didn’t sprout from a seed that had fallen into a crack and sprouted. They had clearly pushed the asphalt away when they came up from roots already established, since the willow shrubs extended beyond the asphalt into the gravel shoulder and the ditch alongside.

In the posts I found, most acknowledged that seeds sprouting up through the asphalt likely found miniscule cracks in the underside and pushed against them. Is that not even more remarkable than those that had access to the light while they rooted and sprouted and pushed aside the barrier?

I, for one, admire the tenacity of the plant that pushes through the darkness, against what appears to be an insurmountable obstacle, until it busts free completely. Imagine a tiny little plant causing an upheaval like that. 

I also found posts that attributed the grow-thru of plants to the fact that pouring hot asphalt on the ground would warm seeds that were already in the ground, causing them to sprout.

I’ve done my fair share of sprinting barefoot across asphalt on a July day. I know that asphalt is warm, and not only when it’s newly poured. So yes, I think it’s safe to say that the warmth of asphalt can be considered partly responsible for aiding the germination of seeds underneath or near it. 

I still find it incredible that a tiny seed has the power to bust through something that can withstand the weight of muli-ton vehicles. 

One post caught my eye because it stated that contact time is the key. It claimed that the viscoelastic asphalt binder can handle a lot of pressure for a brief period of time—like the passing of a heavy truck—but will give way under constant pressure, even if that pressure is considerably less intense.  

The plants use exactly that type of ongoing pressure. It’s called turgor pressure. It’s the pressure inside the plants’ cells pushing against the cell walls which in turn holds the plants upright. 

As a non-scientist, here’s my interpretation. 

The plant has an innate need for light, and is equipped to meet this need at a cellular level.

The very force that allows it to stand upright also gives it the power to widen the cracks, to push through darkness toward the light—because this is necessary for its survival. That tiny seed, that tiny sprout, has within its very cells the power to overcome the obstacles that would keep it from living as it is meant to. 

Our world today is just as viscous as the asphalt binder—seemingly solid, but in reality malleable and ever-changing. The pathways it creates sometimes impede our growth as individuals, and rather than enabling us to move forward, block the light entirely. 

We, no less than seeds, hold within us that need for light and life.  

And, no less than tiny seeds, we hold a power within us at an elemental level. It’s the power to keep going, to keep pushing through darkness and against obstacles until we find what we need. 

You have it. I have it. 

Remember, it doesn’t have to be an extreme force. It needs to be a steady force.

It needs to be relentless.

It may seem small and insignificant against the larger, more powerful machinery of our world. But it’s strong enough to leave more than a momentary imprint. 

That power? It has a different name in humans than it does in plants. 

We call it

The Human Spirit. 

What are you pushing for? Survival? Growth? 

Are you struggling in the darkness? Are you reaching for the light? 

Don’t give up. Be relentless.