Flower and Fruit

once again we praise nature

Passion flowers have long cast a spell on me. It began in the haze of childhood, a vine covered fence in my neighborhood alley started offering up magical violet shapes. Passion flowers are not like the other girls. Where typical flowers only have petals, the passion flower extends spindly fingers that curl and zig zag. Perhaps this is when nature invented ombre, as these threads start purple and elegantly fade into a white tip. Green arms extend from the flower’s center like an otherworldly dancer, twirling on a stage. If that wasn’t enough, dainty green coils surround the flower. These spirals are wound so tight, you could pull on the ends and they would bounce back into place. 

The fragrance of a passion flower calls to you from yards away. It blesses us a sweet yet dizzying kiss.

When the passion flowers begin to droop, a mourning period feels appropriate. It isn’t fair that such a strange creature should be with us for such a short amount of time. 

And what is this green shiny ball emerging from the fading petals? 

Soon the green turns orange, the shine makes way for softness. A once vibrant flower transforms into a brown sweater slung over the shoulders of a fully formed passion fruit. I remember the first time I plucked one from the vine and drank its potion. It was intoxicating. I wondered why my neighbors weren’t lined up for their very own taste.

The flower’s sacrifice and been worth it all along. 

Now a passion fruit vine loops over a fence just down the street from our apartment. My heart raced when I recognized the green coils. I was hopeful, patient. Eventually a flower appeared, with the ombre threads and familiar green figure poised in the center of it all. 

Months have gone by as I’ve watched the passion flower to passion fruit process. I felt the same twinge of grief when the flowers started to fall, even though I knew what was to come. 

orbs and coils

It’s hard to fathom that every piece of fruit was once a flower. And every flower was heartbreakingly alluring. It enamors with its beauty, tantalizes with its fragrance. It had potential to be the main event.

Despite its appeal, the flower must be allowed to wilt and fade along with the illusion of sustenance. It is only when the flower shrivels, that the fruit comes into its fullest form. The fruit with less glamour on the outside, but true nourishment on the inside.

Nature doesn’t regard a fallen flower as a mark of failure. It knows the whole cycle. There is time for all of it. The vine lets go of a good thing, to make way for something even better.

Whenever inspiration strikes within us, we are drawn in by the beauty of possibility. The more we engage with our ideas, the more they start to take shape. We pollinate the flower, unknowingly setting it on a path of destruction. Soon, amorous feelings dissipate, just as something real is beginning to grow under the wilting fantasy. The spell of enchantment has run its course. When we get to that point, it’s decision making time. Do we stay or do we go. If we stick around, we might be able to harvest something truly substantial. 

To begin at all, we need the flower’s beauty. The flashy fragrance calls in pollination. Without the fleeting muse, we wouldn’t run towards the challenge of inspiration. We would never have a shot at creating more.

If we’re given an opportunity for nourishment, we must welcome what the fruit offers. We have to take a bite. 

Eating the fruit is a tale as old as time. Paradigm shifts occur. Perhaps when Adam and Eve watched the flower transform into an apple, it was their first look at death and rebirth. To fully understand their mortality, they needed to take a bite.

Fruit provides us deep communion. In some cases, we ingest something that we have seen form over a stretch of months. We welcome it into our body, the most intimate space. 

Anyway, the passion flower down the street took its time becoming fruit. Months went by as I watched green orbs grow into dark ruby ornaments. 

I began to wonder when I’d get my chance to pluck one for myself. I questioned how much I deserved the passion fruit—something that never crossed my mind when I was young. Did it belong to the person who pays for the fence that holds the vines? Would they care if I took just one treasure home for myself? 

Only after I let go of all the questions did I get my answer. 

I was walking with Joey and Chris, just after the sun had left the sky. A couple weeks had passed since I visited the vine and I nearly stumbled over a passion fruit that lay on the pavement. I turned the orb over in my palms, looking for bugs or animal teeth marks. It was perfect. I was elated. After all those months of watching, wondering, cheering, it was waiting there for me. 

the moment

So often we grasp and reach for impossible permanence. We pour tears into the cups of the fleeting. We worry about deserving, when it’s all falling into place. 

Today, I’m going to let all of it go. I’m just going to eat the passion fruit. 

this morning

xx
James