The Art of Making Room

The Ritual of Keeping | October 2026

One of my favorite Akan adages is, “Wo mfuo dɔɔso a, wo yɛ nyina ara.”

Translated, it means, “When you have many farms, you must attend to all.”

Across many African cultures, proverbs and adages have long been an integral part of communication. They are used to offer counsel, correct behavior, share wisdom, and sometimes say what might otherwise require a lengthy explanation. Their meanings are rarely confined to the words themselves.

Growing up, my father would often say this to me whenever I forgot to do something he had asked of me. I would explain, usually that I had forgotten or that I had been busy, and his response would be familiar:

“Wo mfuo dɔɔso a, wo yɛ nyina ara.”

He was not speaking about farming, of course. He was reminding me that having several responsibilities did not excuse me from attending to the ones I had already accepted.

At the time, it was another one of my father's sayings. But as I have grown older, I have come to appreciate how much wisdom those few words carry.

The Responsibility of Making Time

We often speak about time as though it is something waiting to be discovered.

I'll call when I find the time.

I'll visit when my schedule clears.

I'll get to it when things settle down.

But life has a way of filling whatever space we give it.

My father's adage taught me that having many commitments requires us to be deliberate about how we honor them. It has also taught me that when circumstances change, communicating those changes is itself a form of consideration.

If I cannot fulfill an obligation, I can say so. If my schedule changes, I can communicate that earlier rather than leave someone waiting. And if I have made a commitment, I owe it some measure of attention.

There is a difference between genuinely not having the capacity to do something and simply failing to make room for it.

I am reminded of the book of Ecclesiastes, which speaks of a time for everything and a season for every activity under heaven.

Perhaps the wisdom lies not in attempting to do everything at once, but in recognizing that the many parts of our lives require attention, even if that attention takes different forms in different seasons.

Sometimes, time itself needs time. But that, too, requires intention.

The Wisdom We Carry Forward

What I find particularly meaningful is how this adage has become part of my own vocabulary.

Today, when a friend or family member tells me they do not have time for something they have committed to, I sometimes find myself repeating my father's words:

“Wo mfuo dɔɔso a, wo yɛ nyina ara.”

And just like that, something I heard repeatedly growing up has become something I now pass along.

This is one of the remarkable things about proverbial wisdom. It travels through ordinary conversations, often without ceremony. A parent speaks, a child listens, and years later, that child finds themselves drawing upon the same words to make sense of life.

The saying remains familiar, but our understanding of it deepens with experience.

As we continue October's theme, The Ritual of Keeping, I find myself thinking about how much of what we inherit is preserved in this way.

Not everything is kept in photographs, written records, or treasured possessions. Some things remain with us because we continue to speak them, practice them, and allow them to shape how we live.

My father's adage began as a reminder to fulfill my responsibilities. Today, I hear in it something broader about intention, accountability, and respect for the time we share with others.

We all have many farms to tend. Some require more attention than others, and there will be seasons when we cannot give everything the same measure of care.

But perhaps the art of making room begins with understanding that what matters to us deserves more than the promise of someday.

We do not simply find time. We make it.

And sometimes, the wisdom that teaches us how to live has been spoken to us all along.

I'm curious: What is an adage or saying you grew up hearing, and how has its meaning changed for you over time?

Perhaps it is something a parent, grandparent, or elder often repeated. Or perhaps, like me, you now find yourself saying those very words to others.

I'd love to hear yours in the comments.

With gratitude,

Alice