I have a house full of plants. I grew up in a house full of plants.
I guess it has something to do with bringing some of the outdoors inside.
Something green. It doesn’t match the experience of being outside, but it has
always felt right to have them.
Recently, I was doing my watering duty when I realized how little I
actually do see my plants or appreciate them anymore. This is interesting for
two reasons. First, some of these plants are so old they are like members of my
family. They’ve been lugged through at least seven moves that I can think of. Second…
so I’m watering them and I’m actually dreading the time it takes to feed and care
for them. Instead of enjoying them, they have become a chore. I’ve let them become
a chore.
Instead of being in the moment like I’m always preaching and noticing
their beauty, I’m rushing through the task with a vengeance. What stopped me
was this. As I was waiting for the trays to fill with water, I was reading a
Mary Oliver poem. Her vivid imagery reminded me that life is a series of
moments. Why living in the present moment is such a difficult task that needs
constant reminding, I do not know. I do know it’s best to take care and not let
those moments slip away. Enjoy them when you can. See them. Be there.
Courtyard in Cordoba, Spain:)
