“Of course I wake up finally
thinking, how wonderful to be who I am,
made out of earth and water,
my own thoughts, my own fingerprints—
all that glorious, temporary stuff.”
—Mary Oliver, “On Meditating, Sort Of”
Tending to my houseplants has become a spiritual practice to me. I examine them daily, hoping to see new growth and their progress opening new leaves. I worry about brown spots and yellowing leaves, and hope that they’re getting the right amount of light and water and love to thrive. I feel the firmness and shape of their leaves to know when it’s time to water them, and I often poke my finger in the soil for another check.
Caring for my plants can be messy: the dirt I haven’t bothered to wipe from my windowsill, that always seems to show up in the sink, and that I never manage to entirely get out from under my nails attests to that. Yet it’s in the messiness where I’m reminded that my plants and I are alive, together, sharing a little studio apartment, breathing the same air. That dirt—which we kindly call soil when it’s contained—gives life to my plants and, through them, back to me. The row of plants in my windowsill ground me after hard therapy sessions, comfort me in my tears and my hurt, and ground me in time through their slow, continuous transformation.
I once took some of the water I had been growing plant cuttings in and used it in blessing to offer myself release from the shame I had around my pandemic trauma. I sought grace in that water that created and sustained life, knowing that only I could give myself forgiveness. That sacred, life-giving water gave me the space and the separation from myself to let me love myself, to make myself more whole, to find the Love inside me.
I cried many tears that night, but I found myself full of wonder knowing that those tears may one day be the water that blesses another; the water that now nurtures my plants may once have been another’s tears. The soil that now holds them may once have been a stone thrown in anger…yet here it is now: giving, nurturing, growing, and loving.
Prayer
Spirit of Love, May we be the dust, the dirt, the soil that creates and sustains life. Help us know that every time we testify at a city council meeting, write a poem, or tend to a child, we are givers and creators of life. Let us remember that we are blessed by those whose love created the life that surrounds us. Amen and blessed be.