Lessons on Showing Up and Allowing the Blossoms to Unfurl
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Christmas cactus — or Christmas, as we affectionately call her — is the only houseplant that we held onto when we purged many of our belongings 14 months ago. This means that she has been along for the ride on every single one of our many adventures while traveling through the south.
Actually, she has the reputation of being quite the traveler. When my wife and I left Vermont at the end of 2013, we had been together for 8 years. During those years alone, Christmas was moved a total of 6 times. And before that, well — Rebecca brought her into the relationship so she is, in effect, my stepchild, but I love her as my own — my wife has always been a bit of a nomad, so in the year between her arrival in Vermont (fresh off the Appalachian Trail) and by the time we moved in together, they lived in 3 different places. And before that, all I know is that Christmas comes from a lineage that goes back many decades. I’m really not sure when exactly Rebecca became her primary caretaker.
Before we left the south to return home, we were delighted that she still had enough spunk to bloom on schedule. Simultaneously, we were concerned that moving her (yet again) in the frigid winter temps would finally be too much for her. Several blossoms had opened, but several more were closed pink buds, waiting for the right moment to reveal their glory.
When we first arrived to our furnished apartment, there literally was nowhere to put her in the south-facing windows. However, as we got settled in and got a feel for the space, I re-located the small kitchen table and placed it directly in front of the south-facing window in the tiny spare bedroom/office to use as a desk. The desk is now draped with a beautiful Pashmina scarf that is held in place by Christmas, one of my favorite pottery bowls filled with precious stones and a few other meaningful items. A beautiful clear multifaceted crystal ball hangs directly in front of me, joyfully collecting rays of sunshine and throwing them around the room in the form of miniature rainbows. Even so, though she had found her comfortable new spot in the sun, a couple of weeks had passed and the reticent blossoms had yet to unfurl.
Toward the end of last week, I felt called to spend some time nurturing Christmas. I logged out of everything in the computer except for Pandora’s “Buddha Nature Radio”, brought in a soft cloth and a bowl of water, and spent time communing with her. I gently washed each and every green segment of her body, slowly spinning her around, removing any dried leaves and shriveled blossoms. Though there were many others things that I could have been doing, this is exactly what felt right in that moment. As I gently touched every single inch of her with love, I could feel her responding. When I finished wiping away the layers of dust that had accumulated over the past year, she glowed.
Each day since, as I’ve sat at my desk, I’ve felt this renewed sense of purpose exuding from her. It’s almost as if she was just waiting for me to pay her some attention and let her know how much I appreciate her presence. Alas, sometime between the moments that I left my desk to care for household chores and take a shower, those last pink buds chose to respond to today’s beautiful sunshine. Because the opened screen of my laptop partially obscures the blossoms that had yet to open, I didn’t even notice the change as I sat down. Suddenly the sun broke free of the clouds and fell directly onto my face, causing me to stop in my tracks. I closed my eyes, fell still, and allowed the warmth and brilliance of the beautiful sunshine to wash over me. Upon opening my eyes and realizing I could no longer see the screen, I stood to slightly lower the blind. It was in this moment that the brilliant fuchsia caught my eye and I found the blossoms revealing the last, various stages of their existence. Once again I was stopped in my tracks by the sheer beauty.
As I’ve spent the morning going deep, pondering this ‘edge’ at which I’ve found myself, wondering how best to authentically show up in this world, Christmas has gifted me with a lesson. We’re always going to be affected by outside influences. The actions of others, our environment, how much nourishment we give and receive — all of these things have some type of effect. However, as we continue to move through life, all that is really expected of us is that we be who we are. This is how we authentically show up. We don’t waste time incessantly worrying about what is, what has been or has yet to be. We go with the flow, experience the different seasons, conserve energy when necessary, and bloom when the conditions are right.
This experience has also made me think about how important it is — when we each reach those moments of stasis in our own lives — to reach out and nurture someone else. Rather than wallow in the lack of movement, we can seize the opportunity to offer love and nourishment to another … and by doing so, it might just cause the glorious sun to shine in, thus allowing our own blossoms to unfurl. And perhaps this is what showing up authentically is all about.
