Plants & Pruning, Death & Life
How's your thumb? Green, brown, black? I've been trying for a green thumb, but apartment dwelling and certain homes aren't conducive to it. That is part of the journey - knowing what to even try to grow. A common novice mistake is not pruning or being afraid to prune. This is one of my issues. Once you decide to prune, there is also knowing how to prune.
I've been dabbling more in the past few years into pruning. I was so reticent at first, because what if I do it wrong? What if I kill the plant? I've built my way to cutting even the huge leaves and stems of my monstera plant in my office. I was only brave enough to do it in the last year. Lo and behold, it is doing even better than ever! It regularly puts out new leaves and I regularly will cut the older, browning, tearing aged leaves. The two go hand in hand.
Truth is truth. We see it all around us. The simpler the truth, the more profound it is. This truth: death and life go hand in hand. To deny one is to deny the other. You can't fully live if you're not also experiencing death. It is nature. It is the cycle of life, of the universe.
Keeping leaves and branches on my plants isn't the only thing I've clung to for too long. I do this in my life as well - jobs, relationships, moving situations, objects, routines, beliefs and on and on. For the new to happen, a space must be vacated by the old. There is releasing, even severing. Death has its hardship, but in addition to its necessity, it's also beautiful.
I just returned to work this week after a 3 month sabbatical and was delighted to find a tender light green new leaf sprout tightly wound around itself welcoming me back to Los Angeles and this new season of my life. That is the first thing I noticed upon viewing the monstera that greets visitors at my office door. Upon further examine, I noticed a large fully mature leaf on the other end of the life cycle - the deep green coloring, no longer vivid, with tears occurring in the indentations in the leaves accompanied by a browning on the edge and a change of the leaf to a stiffer, more brittle, and less compliant texture. I didn't hesitate. At my first opportunity to care for my places, I found the scissor and cut through the several inches through the base of the stem. I want that new growth to flourish and the entire plant. I thanked the leaf and felt deep gratitude for its beauty and how it would nourish the earth as I took it out to the green waste bin. And I'm lingering in my gratitude as I write these words and reflect on the lessons pruning has taught me in my life and ever more in this season. I've graduated to pruning such big leaves as monstera leaves (which are monstrously big and beautiful) and pruning things out of my personal life that are hindering growth, but learning to do so with hope for new life and thanksgiving for what was and the beauty and lessons it held.
If we want healthy plants, we've got to prune. This is actively participating in the death process to allow for greater life. This truth transcends into our lives, beloveds, if we will accept it. Let's accept it.
May you always see the blessing,
-esb