Thriving

The plant is green, with no dead brown bits or sinister black or white spots (fungal infection). It looks much as it has done since I brought it home from the garden centre a couple of months ago. It needs water about every third day, and I dust the leaves when they get fluffy so it can breathe.

One day, I moved it. I can't remember whether I was just wanting to clean the bench thoroughly, or if I needed a bit space to put something, or just fancied a change: anyway, I moved it and it looked well-enough in the new spot and I forgot to move it back.

A couple of days later, it had new leaves unfurling. A week later, it is 50% bigger than when I bought it, and 45% bigger than when it lived on the other bench. I hoped it might just be its growing season, as I didn't want to believe I'd been a bad gardner, but as its autumn (fall) that isn't likely.

The plant is now clearly thriving.

There was nothing 'wrong' with the spot it was in before, but nothing especially right with it either. I was looking for signs of disease, rather than signs of vigorous health. When we ask, 'what's wrong?' we may miss important information. We also need to ask, 'what's right?' An answer of 'nothing much' may not be good enough.

There have been times in my life when I've felt like that plant: I'm sure you're the same yourself. I've also seen it in others. These questions are not about achievement, it's about being (the plant was 'achieving' green leaves). It's such a subtle but profound thing, it can be hard to put into words, but when you see a plant or a human being thrive, it's unmistakeable.

This is post 5 of 100 posts in 100 days.