It is a tricky thing to keep tropical plants alive when they live in a loft in an occasionally-heated, occasionally-occupied tiny house in the middle of Midwest winter. My fantasy of creating and maintaining a vibrant, plant-rich space began to wilt along with my plants the three-day weekend we had guests during a cold snap. Constant dry heat damaged the leaves of all of them, so I brought them inside to convalesce (and also so I wouldn’t have to build two-a-day fires to maintain my tropical jungle fantasy in the cold.)

Two of the plants seemed happy enough to hang out in a sunny window well and catch their breath, but the unhappiest one I placed in the bathroom under special grow lights. Its damaged leaves never recovered, so one at a time I pruned them off, but only once I saw that a leaf baby was well underway. The main leaf you see in the picture was that baby leaf, birthed on the bathroom counter.

And now the baby is having a baby!

🌱 The thing I’m noticing is that this little leaf is reproducing more quickly than the others did. I’m assuming that’s because it has access to all the nutrients (in the form of old bat poo harvested from the barn floor), all the water and a thoughtfully-provided red and blue grow light. Because I pruned off the dying leaves, there’s no competition for resources.

It’s a powerful metaphor for life – pruning, light, water and fertilizer (correctly processed 💩!) lead to faster and more vigorous new growth. But there IS the pain of pruning. And the loneliness of no longer having the familiar around, whatever the familiar thing is – habits, habitat, people, living situation, job. And let’s not forget the bravery to wade in and stick a garden fork into whatever pile of poo we’re hiding, turn it over and expose it to the light. To let it transform into nourishment instead of something that stays hidden, festers and putrefies.

My questions for this next next season and a few answers that have sprouted up as I’ve been writing:

1. What can be pruned away in my own life to make room for new growth? My very biggest waste – precious morning time spent on social media. Today it was 36 mindless FB minutes before I’d even gotten out of bed. I could get an alarm clock with a friendly sound and charge my phone in my office instead. Update: Over the course of writing this post, I have researched alarm clocks and found something that will fit my needs. It has been ordered and will arrive in two days.

• What can I add to encourage more vibrant life? Keep my desk clean and office tidy – this ALWAYS entices me to sit, write, organize, plan, dream, create. Also, I just booked an appointment with my doctor to get my no-surgery-needed torn-meniscus knee re-inspected and PT planned (I just learned from the interwebs that it should have healed on its own MONTHS ago). And booked a couple of massages to further assist the healing process. Once I can be assured I won’t damage myself further, I’ll be able to venture into exercise of some sort, which always make me feel more vibrant. In the meantime, I can start using my gym membership – even if I’m just sitting in the hot tub.

• What 💩 am I hiding away that can be transformed? As a result of having a clean office and tidy desk, I have been writing more. As a result of writing more, I’ve been looking at an area of resentment in my life resulting from feeling like I’m doing more than my fair share in a certain area of a certain relationship. I was able to make a specific request on behalf of my friend Naomi that has solved that resentment and has every indication of working like a charm. With resentment occupying less room, I have increased space for love. Relationship math for the win! (See https://behindthebluedoor.online/2016/08/20/third-person-love/ to learn about the power imagining yourself in the third person.)

Sometimes multiple times a day, I go into the bathroom and inspect the progress of the being-born baby leaf. I resist the urge to pull its last sweet green centimeter out of the body of the mother leaf so that it can get on with the business of opening up and growing. I stroke the mother leaf and tell her she’s doing a good job. I lightly touch the baby leaf and say “Welcome to our bathroom! I’m so glad you’re here! You’re going to grow so big and strong!” It feels good to nourish a small thing and cheer it on.

What would it feel like to give that kind of tender regard and encouragement to the ways we’re growing and blossoming in our own lives? 🌱