When I moved in with Chris, I brought my plants. In his 600 square foot apartment, it felt like they took up as much space as I did—it was surreal to transport these beings into a shared home. Some plants don’t like travel and I’m happy to report they all made it through the transition without any hiccups.
Chris and I share a love for plants, but his crazy work schedule meant he could only care for a few succulents perched in a sunny kitchen window. Now with me as a co-plant-parent the ceiling was the limit. For months we roamed various plant stores, looking for characters big and small.
During one of these many outings, I got this idea that I wanted some kind of big tall plant. It could be a giant cactus, an ambitious rubber tree, or a fiddle leaf. We all know the fiddle leaf trend is over, but who cares! A tree is a tree.
After I found TWO dying fiddles in my parent’s alley (on separate occasions!) I thought I’d be able to adopt one (finders fee, anyone?) but my mom was lovingly attached. Fair enough, so Chris and I went back on the search.
Late one night we went to home depot for like, tools or whatever people get there? And I ended up in the outdoor nursery, cooing over tiny green entities. Chris found me just as I discovered a dreamlike corner where a gangly fiddle leaf huddled between large potted palms.
Because we were in a home depot, the price was a fraction of any fiddle we’d seen before. We hemmed and hawed for approximately 5 minutes, as I checked under the leaves for tiny spots that alert you to the presence of bugs. It was exceptionally healthy and we ended up magically fitting it into my Prius. The ceiling was almost too low, but I decided it would be a guide for us. Its growth would propel us into a larger home.
That year it was our makeshift Christmas tree, marking one of the happiest holiday seasons I’ve ever had. A few months later we moved to our current spot, which I thought would be incredible because there was a lot more room, so obviously that means a lot more plants. We gave the fiddle leaf an entire corner of the apartment, right by two windows. I credited this tall tree for getting us into a bigger home. And all was perfect.
Until the beautiful tear shaped leaves began to drop. I worried I wasn’t watering it enough, because again TWO WINDOWS. But eventually I realized just because there are windows…doesn’t mean you’ll get light. This entire place is actually kind of dark—difficult for me because if I’m not woken by the sun and continually rallied by her for the entire day, I fall into a daze. I blame the apartment I spent ages 12-20, where the sun hit a wall of windows and the entire living room became a sauna for the whole day. We didn’t have A/C but that overpowering light became my norm.
Anyway we tried moving the fiddle leaf around to multiple places, while I watered it militantly. Every spot was just as bad as the one before. Finally I gave up. I thought I had permanently damaged the tree, it was terrible but I would let it die. I put it in the worst possible corner, unwilling to prominently display its sad decline. I’d avert my eyes when I walked by, but I kept up the watering routine (because I’m no monster). About 5 leaves were left on this thing when I noticed some weird activation near the soil. Much to my surprise, a little leaf sprouted right at the base of the skinny trunk.
Well, that’s nice I thought, maybe when all the leaves fall off I’ll just cut the trunk and let it grow this tiny leaf as a passion project.
That was my working plan until another tiny leaf sprouted. At the TOP.
This time my response was, What the fuck. What game is this plant trying to play with me?
We could not sustain it in this dark house and yet, here it was defying the worst corner in the whole floor plan.
Every time I walked by it, I felt it calling to me. Taunting me, but also excited by the evidence of its new life.
I started asking it what it wanted. I didn’t think the corner was going to be sustainable for these baby leaves. Putting it outside hadn’t occurred to me because it’s been so hot out, I figured any vitality would just deflate.
But one day I just thought fuck it, what else are we gonna do. I didn’t want to lose this plant, I was hopeful again. I couldn’t have something dying in the corner, especially when it seemed so interested in, well, not death.
When Chris got home we maneuvered it outside, under this little awning that runs across the front of the duplex. I prayed this awning would be a magic spot. A few months ago I saved a giant bougainvillea that a neighbor had left in the sun without water. I thought that one was doomed too, but once I dragged it under that awning and watered it regularly, new tendrils sprouted.
Well its been about 5 weeks, and this fiddle leaf is officially a comeback kid. It has multiple new leaves at the bottom of the pot AND new growth at the tops of both branches. After watching it struggle for a year, this change is literally unbelievable.
I felt like the fiddle leaf forgave me and began believing in itself.
I forgave myself and believing in us both.
It’s thriving in an environment I thought would be too harsh for survival.
As I’ve watched these shiny green leaves appear, each one feels like a soft reminder.
How many times have we worried about a shift, but experienced awakening after temporary discomfort?
How many times have we found strength in the darkest places?
How can we heal suffering, if we can’t even look at it?
That fiddle leaf used to conjure up the energy of failure, but now it’s given me so much to believe in.
It’s out there, trusting itself, trusting the process, trusting that light will find it. And trusting it will know what to do when the sun finally hits.
Thanks for reading the most niche of dispatches.
xx
James
p.s.
I’ve just opened the books for Personalized Meditations — I skipped last month because I was too busy, but I’m opening them to the Now is Good population a day early. Can’t wait to collab with you on these.
Also I’ve created a vibe-centric video for Morning Activation, my newest meditation. Watch or listen here.