I have a Moth Orchid sitting on the corner of my kitchen bench. It flowered ages ago, sometime at the start of the year. I bought it spontaneously as a treat for myself. I kept it because I liked the large green leaves and the white round pot it was in. I’d occasionally empty the dribble of water left in my water bottle at the end of the day after work. I can’t remember when I last watered the plant. It gets no direct sunlight and I doubt any indirect rays either. I was thinking maybe the time had come for me to dispose of the plant for it’s unlikely to flower again – especially since I’d been ignoring it.
I went to pick it up. Then noticed two new stems full of little buds. Instead of throwing it out, I gave it some water, and left it to stand on my kitchen bench. I can watch the buds bloom and be reminded of how I was too quick to ride-off the plant when nature was doing it’s thing and the orchid was blooming where it was planted, and making the best of the situation it was in. A situation not as bleak or as final as I had thought.
It just goes to show the importance of not giving up, and how by taking a step back, providing some space, the flow of life, and of nature, are able to do their thing more productively. I can’t help think there are numerous aspects in my life where I could benefit by taking a step back. For example with my writing. By taking a back step, I allow my mind the space it needs in particular my sub-conscious to come up with new story lines, characters and ideas. Like the plant, my art work needs space to breathe, to grow, to bloom. When painting a still life, I often step back to look at the still life and what I’m painting from a greater distance to see if I need to adjust my perspective and approach.
It’s hard to do, risky even because there’s a chance I might no come up with new ideas to write, or I realise I’ve painted the vase completely wrong (which I have done, and is the photo here). But it’s not the end of the world. No new ideas? Well I can write a different story, or have a break, the ideas will come in time. And so what if the vase is wrong, it looks fine in the painting. The Moth Orchid could’ve died. It didn’t. It thrived.
Sometimes nature and life flow need to be given space in order to have influence. I’m learning that sometimes it’s best to let things be so they can develop in their own time.
What times have you left things alone, and repeat the unexpected benefits? Please share them below in the comments.