You are a metaphor

You’re also a houseplant

In my attempt to reduce scrolling, I mostly keep myself to Instagram. I prefer looking at pictures of things people make and things made by nature. I don’t do celebrity accounts or people in general. I’m a sucker for time-lapse videos, specifically of plants. 

I’d say my collection of houseplants is average, but I don’t know what that means. I know some people with zero plants in their home, others live in a veritable jungle. I’m somewhere in between. My oldest plant is a cactus from King Soopers in Denver in 1991. It drove to CT in the back of an ex-boyfriend’s Camaro. My mother looked after it there for some fifteen odd years until I was ready to be a plant mom in Georgia. 

At any given time I have a series of cuttings I’m coaxing into rooting, some plants I have a lot of questions about, some that are thriving, and others which are not.

I know for the most part my plants are sprouting new leaves and growing, but I can’t pinpoint when it occurs.  I live with these plants, talk to them, sing to them, water them and accidentally neglect them, but to actually spot growth happen is unusual.

That’s why I love plant time-lapse videos. The painstaking process of leaves unfolding takes seconds rather than weeks. The excitement of the reveal is immediate. 

But there’s something else. The process becomes so clear. Growth is not linear. 

Although the plant pot is stationary, the plant itself, whether fiddle leaf fig, pathos or fern, is in constant motion. The naked eye can’t discern this, but camera sees all. The leaves are always moving, sometimes angling themselves towards the sun, other times when it’s too much, away. 

But wait, there’s more, and this is the biggest deal of all. 

When new leaves are unfurling or some sort of bud opening it’s not boom! I’m opening, lets go. It’s a slow controlled process. The blossoming doesn’t begin and continue uninhibited. After the leaves stretch themselves out a little, they stop, then retract and close just a tiny bit. Then they rest like that for a hot minute before opening more, bigger than they were before. Until, again, they withdraw just a small bit. 

This ebb and flow, like the tides or seasons, allows the plant to conserve energy, to test the waters (so to speak), and to not exceed its own capacity for nourishment. 

Here is the most important thing:

This is a metaphor.

You’re the houseplant. 

Your growth isn’t linear. You will grow and recede and grow more. Your growth won’t happen overnight. The sun won’t always be shining on you from the same angle, so you’ll have to chase it sometimes, and seek shelter at other times so it doesn’t burn you. 

. Here’s some more things you have in common with plants:

• A support system is an important part of developing strength, like tomato cages, orchid stakes, therapy or asking for help.

• There will come a time when you outgrow your pot. If you can’t move to a bigger pot, parts of you will die back and you won’t flourish. You’ll exist, but you won’t thrive.

• Having needs doesn’t make you selfish. Having boundaries doesn’t make you cruel. Knowing and honoring your needs and boundaries is one of the most nourishing things you can do. 

• A little sunlight and a big drink of water go a long way towards helping you prosper.

• If you really want to blossom in a most outrageous way, you’ll need to shed the old growth that's monopolizing your energy without contributing to the well-being of the whole.

• An overnight growth spurt or bolt isn’t necessarily an indication of a healthy ecosystem, it could mean your growth season has ended. Or it could mean you’re asparagus.

• Not every season is a season of growth.

Just going to let you sit with this for a minute.  Consider your own growth and how you’re nurturing yourself. 

I’ll be back on Wednesday for snack time with more.