Repotting

 There is no denying it, I am not the best plant mom out there.  I enjoy having plants in my home. I love the tranquility their greenery brings to a room, and as a result, I own quite a few.  Despite my appreciation of houseplants, my ability to nurture them often falls short.  I do not know their proper names.  I do not talk to them unless I am apologizing for letting their soil become dry.  I often sit down at the end of the night, ready to read and unwind, when I notice their droopiness and promise to water them first thing the next day.  I then imagine them staring at me, blatantly drinking water, and ignoring their thirst. 

Anytime I bring a new plant home, I ensure it is of the "hearty" variety, meaning that it can withstand some neglect and irregular maintenance. Succulents and pothos have been reliable go-tos over the years, and I've even managed to keep an orchid and snake plant going much longer than I had ever imagined possible. So there is hope.

One of my plants had been showing visible signs of needing repotting.  Its leaves drooped quickly after watering, and when I took it out of the decorative pot it lived in, I couldn't help but notice the root growth that was taking place outside of its container.  Sigh.  I knew that I would need to tend to this, or risk losing the plant entirely, and on the eve of the Winter solstice, I decided the time was right.  

The winter solstice energy calls for us to embrace the darkness of the season as we officially enter this new season.  We are called to pause and consider the year that was, and look forward with a sense of rebirth as the new year approaches.  How fitting to finally give this struggling plant a new lease on life while the energy of renewal was in the air.  And the parallels to other aspects of life did not go unnoticed while I gingerly transferred this patient plant from cramped quarters into a more luxurious new home.  The entire pot was filled with roots that had fought to find every nook and cranny available to them, so they could draw in the nutrients and hydration required to thrive, or simply survive.  I could definitely relate.

I thought back to times in my life when I felt the same way, struggling to thrive in the situation I found myself in, and unsure how to proceed to break free of the restraints holding me back.  I remember the dual feelings of relief and uncertainty as I took my first faltering steps in a new direction, and how, at times, I almost missed my old, familiar situation. Despite the feeling of the walls closing in, there was a sense of comfort in my intimate knowledge of the limits I was working with.  Removing these parameters and introducing the unknown felt unsettling and uneasy.  It took some time before I was able to relax and enjoy my new outlook on life, and trust that I wasn't going to be called back to living small again.  

As we welcome in the solstice tomorrow, I find myself taking a moment to evaluate my life and to notice the areas where I am ready to embrace a new perspective.  What I have found is that sometimes the smallest changes can have the biggest impacts, and sometimes we may be the only ones who even notice the shift that has taken place.  Is there an area in your life where things are feeling uncomfortable, cramped, or tired?  How does it feel to consider taking action to harness the energy of the season and move towards a new beginning as the year comes to a close?  Putting pen to paper, imagining what the future could hold, and embracing the idea that to thrive, we need to ensure we have room to grow is a powerful way to start the process.