Sometimes you have to go away. Indoors, inwards, in the shade.
To slow down, germinate, conserve.
To hide away from the light.
And when it’s time, you have to also get out
into the sun.
To thrive. To feel flush with life.
To own your true colours.
To feel alive.
But only in time.
I haven’t had my plants back home since October when I went away to Goa and I took them to my parents’ place where they’d be watered and cared for. I came back in November but since I was returning to Goa in just three weeks for over a month, I didn’t bother carting all 50+ pots back to mine again.
I returned in January, but made two trips to Wayanad, and took my time to fall back into my rhythm at home. And I have had an insane eight weeks since, filled with work that didn’t give me the peace and pause I had all through last year to tend to and focus on my plants.
The feels are slowly creeping up on me again. I began sorting the few pots I have at home, this weekend. In anticipation and preparation for bringing the rest of the fam back home.
Went over to my parents and noticed my fiddle leaf fig is beyond thriving. More than it ever did at my home. She barely ever sprouted out new growth. I tried everything — different watering routines, moving her back and forth from the light and shade. But she mostly just hung out in. a corner of my living room, by the window, soaking in the sunlight and listening to the motivating things I’d whisper to her every morning, in the hope that she found the encouragement to put out a new leaf now and then. But she really took her time. Don’t get me wrong, she looked good and she was alive and kicking. Just reluctant to grow.
She’s been over at my mum’s for over three months now, along with the rest of my balcony garden. When I returned, I noticed not one, but two new sprouting leaves. I really couldn’t believe my eyes because I hadn’t seen even a hint of I in all the months I’ve had her.
I whopped with joy, but also inwardly chuckled to myself. She’s a bit like me, this fiddle leaf fig. Needs all the goodness of sunshine, adequate water and good food, I guess. But sometimes even all the nourishment, encouraging words and perfect conditions are not enough. And what is actually necessary is a simple change of scene. To get out and go hangout elsewhere. Play. Breathe a different air. And most importantly, a break from all the fussing and waiting for change, for something to happen.
Things happen, when they need to. When the time is just right. I’ll learn and re-learn this lesson a 100 times, but nothing drives it home like plants do.