I bought a plant last year.
When I bought it, it was 3 times bigger, with lots and lots of bright green, thriving leaves.
I put it in my bathroom.
Slowly, however, it started to die. I didn’t know why. I figured that I had been overwatering it, so I gave it less.
I moved it from one end of the room to another—maybe it was too near the radiator?
Nothing changed. In fact, its leaves started to curl up and go brown.
After several months, the leaves began to drop off, and finally 4 dry stalks were all that remained.
“Chuck it in the bin” my mother-in-law said, when I showed it to her, “It’ll make good compost.”
I did not throw it in the bin.
Instead, I moved it again. Onto the upstairs landing in front of the window.
I realised the light was different there, somehow.
And then I waited. And watched. And watered it. Not too much. Not too little.
I also re-potted it and gave it some new, fancy organic soil to root down into.
I waited some more.
And each day, as I walked past it, I would say, “You can grow now.” My kid would ask me why I was talking to the plant.
“Because sometimes we need to know we’re doing okay. Even plants.” I would reply.
Still nothing happened.
I started to think that maybe my mother-in-law was right, that I should have just thrown it away.
But then, sometime in March of this year, a teeny-tiny green leaf appeared on top of one of the stalks.
And then another. And another! And another!
I counted this evening, and there are now 31 leaves on the plant.
I’m so happy!
It’s got me thinking too……
About how and why plants seem to die a little before flourishing again.
And that, in a way, I see this same pattern with my life coaching clients too. Metaphorically, of course.
So maybe, when everything feels barren and bleak, we too, just like the plant, need to be carried to the light of a different window.
And shown a shit-load of patience.
And for someone to say to us from time-to-time, “You have permission to grow.”
Over and out.