Fig tree.
When I think of Sylvia Plath, one thing always comes to mind: the fig tree analogy. If you’re unaware of the fig tree analogy, it is when you imagine your life in many different forms, lifestyles, and jobs, being stuck and unable to pick one; usually, if you did pick one, you would regret picking it and not the other. In Plath’s most famous book, “The Bell Jar” (one of my personal favorites), the main character, Esther, is stuck between different paths, ending up paralyzed, leading her to pick none—which often happens with this analogy.
I myself, like Esther, have been stuck due to the fig tree analogy. When I was around 8, I fell in love with English, and around the same time, I also fell in love with history. Everyone around me wanted me to do history, but I never felt a deep connection with it, yet I felt if I didn't choose it, I would be making the worst decision of my life. Yes, I took pride in my knowledge of history—I still do—but I could never see myself working as a historian or at a museum, and if I did, it always felt disingenuous. I’m what some people call a maladaptive daydreamer. I’ve been one ever since I could remember. In the first-grade Urdu class, I would zone out, play with my hair, and just daydream—it got bad to the point where my teacher pointed it out. I’ve always been a creative child, so the thought of being a writer never escaped my mind. But I feel as if I do become a writer, I’m not fulfilling myself, but if I don’t, I feel the same, unfulfilled. The one career that really started this issue for me was journalism. I was 13 when I first watched Gilmore Girls, and I wanted to be Rory—who doesn’t? I saw her as a journalist, and it sparked something in me. During this time I was in between history and journalism, and I just couldn’t pick; before I had no choice but history, but then came this wonderful job I'm passionate about that ruined and changed my vision for the greater good. Journalism has always been the perfect mixture of my dream careers. I love politics, writing, and history, which are all needed for this career. I’ve picked my fig; I’m content. That’s where my fig tree analogy ends. I had many careers I wanted to be in as a kid that I didn’t mention, like superstar, YouTuber, etc., but I’ve landed on one I’m happy with.
To be completely blunt, this is one of my favorite metaphors; growing up, I wanted so many careers, being indecisive, and regretting if I didn’t pick one, it really made me love this particularly. Plath had semi-based The Bell Jar on her life; Esther is a complex character, and we need to appreciate Plath’s writing for that. I know people read The Bell Jar to seem like “the thought daughter,” but this book has a deeper meaning than just a book to make you look cool.
Why is this so common? Everyone I see on the internet seems to relate to this dilemma; we as humans all have dreams. One person’s dream could be another person’s nightmare; we never know. One common picture/text I see on almost every social media platform is “so many books, movies, songs, languages to learn” (it’s on the lines of that, but you get my point). We all yearn for different paths but want all of them at the same time. But we can’t get all at once, so most of the time we get none—like the experience of Esther in the book. To summarize the fig tree analogy, it’s wanting one but having the fear of missing out—or FOMO. When we get indecisive about such a decision, we often become frustrated, frozen, upset, and emotional, which in the book we see Esther experience. I know I’ve become frustrated because I was indecisive about history, or no—the true answer was no, but I felt major FOMO. It’s our human nature to want everything but not get anything; we all faced FOMO once in our lives—currently learning to not feel it. Esther was a human; it was her nature to feel frozen and be indecisive, being just like you, a human indecisive and frozen over which fig to pick from your fig tree. It’s ok to have the feeling that, in the end, we’re just humans; we’re not perfect no matter how hard we try. We don't need others to help us pick our fig. Ultimately it has to be up to us, no matter what.
— Untitled Journals issue 7