Bad (plant/soul) mom
There is a place where plants go to die. It's the back deck off my tiny kitchen. There lies the carcass of a a really short lived fall mum, a deader than dead corn crane, and a few different herbs we (the collective we, but really me) forgot to water.
Regardless of how they ended up on the back deck, there are enough dead plants to prove one thing; I'm a bad plant mom.
Where I lack in natural plant care intuition, I make up for in how many houseplant accounts I follow on Instagram. If you can't do something well, immerse yourself in social media to give the illusion you can.
Or something like that.
One of the many accounts I follow posted yesterday, that nature is about survival, not aesthetic. When we're more worried about the aesthetic of a problem, we forget to understand the origin.
I thought about all the plants I have killed over the years, and how quickly I've given up on them to buy new.
I just want my plants to look trendy and pretty sitting on my coffee table, I don't want to identify deeper issues. Aesthetic is the point of them, survival eludes to something hard. I don't want to deal with the complexities of survival.
But unknowingly I had stopped thinking about plants and had started thinking about my soul.
Because, maybe, just maybe, I care more about the outside aesthetic of a soul problem than understanding its origin. I lie to myself, if the outside looks perfect, the inside will follow.
If it appears I have close relationships, eventually I will.
If it appears I have the perfect family, eventually I will.
If it appears my life is stunningly full, eventually it will be.
If I can just get the outside aesthetic to be perfect, my insides will be perfect.
John Ortberg says it better, “I was operating on the unspoken assumption that my inner world would be filled with life, peace and joy once my external world was perfect, That’s a great recipe for a healthy soul, as long as you live in a perfect world.” (soul keeping)
My exterior world will never be aesthetically perfect, and the survival part of nature is nurturing the interior of my world. It means instead of banishing a problem to the back deck, or covering up the ugly pieces of my life, I begin understand their origins. Then I confront the root problem because my soul can't be one of the many things I fail to nurture. It can't be sent to the back deck and a new one be bought.
The scary part of any root problem is it doesn't give an immediate pretty picture. The picture might even get uglier before it gets better. My aesthetic will suffer, but my soul will slowly heal.
What that looks like, I'm not sure exactly. But I welcome sage advice in the comments below!