Not sure where to begin with this except to say that my beautiful husband has prodded me for years to share my tales of joy and sorrow for others to know they are not alone in this world. Maybe these tales will take some coherent shape, but maybe the tales will just be what is traveling through my thoughts in that moment. So much to share....here is where I will begin today.
I keep returning my attention to this ficus plant I purchased for Paul two years ago. It was my attempt to green up the house during the pandemic lockdown. We do not have a successful history with keeping things, other than little humans we created, alive. He was beginning to work from home at that time and I was searching for ways to artfully hide his desk and all the clutter he seems to display lovingly. I found this plant shoved behind some others, but it seemed to be the one that needed to come home with me. These can be very finicky plants, but you see them in lobbies and offices all the time, so I wondered how hard can it be?
Within weeks, the plant was stressed, shedding curled up leaves, littering the floor of the living room. So we decided to move it to our bedroom space upstairs instead. For a time, it seemed to prefer this more intimate space with a lot of light and maybe closer to people, rather than a prop in the living to shield a workspace. The leaves have always seemed troubled, tough, curled a bit, with strange whitish spots. The worst was the anticipation of the new leaves sprouting, but they just stagnated, as if frozen in time, while more leaves begin to dry up and drop to the floor.
I contemplated repotting the ficus so many times, but put it off for almost a year until finally I headed out in search for a new larger home for this plant trying so hard to survive our neglect and procrastination. Alas, a new resting place was selected and I quickly moved the plant over for fear I might wait another year before I actually repotted the poor dear. It amazes me how almost instantly, the new stifled leaves began pushing out and a week later they have emerged victorious with a new inch of growth!
I cannot help but consider this metaphor of myself in the world. For the most part I am surviving and doing ok...health could be better, eating habits could improve, I could be a better, more attentive parent, partner, friend. But, I work so hard to work within unnecessary boundaries I force upon myself and habits that drag me down. By repotting, fertilizing, and caring for the ficus it begins again, fresh. There is always an opportunity for me do this in my own practice of life. Just a little care and attention opens the space for new and healthy opportunities and the journey always begins now in this moment. Let the curled, tough leaves wither and fall back to the earth. These old ideas and habits become compost for the next batch of fresh ideas to emerge.
Where is new growth sprouting for you? What can you compost and what do you hope will emerge?
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