Green Foliage Encased In Terra-Cotta

For most, meditating opens the mind and centers their thoughts. In the past I have tried, but have failed. I just could not do it. For me, the clutter and confusion in my mind seems to scream louder the more I attempt to clear my mind of any distraction—bills, money, food, doctors, clothes, LIFE but not here—here I am calm. As far back as I can remember, green foliage has lined the walls of my home almost like vines—terra-cotta pots covered my floors—bare beneath my feet. The floor is cold, but I welcome the cold—my swollen ankles and tired feet hate to be inhibited. The soothing sound of water trickling down the spout of the tin can keeps my nausea at bay—if only for a few minutes. Unfortunately, if I focus too much on the sound of water making a sound even remotely like I trickle, I need to use the bathroom. Yet, inside my bubble of silence, I think only of their wants and needs. Just on the outside of the bubble I smell the stench of the world. Not all the smells are bad, just loud. But here I am content, at ease, and free. Most of my plants stand tall, rich with green, free to expand within their terra-cotta pot.

Here the soil in between my fingers is soft, comfortable, and familiar—like sand in between my toes at the beach. I used to hate it in my nails—it was too hard to get out, but when I wore gloves to stay clean, I missed the feeling of the soil on my skin. Outside everything is dirty, but I never have enough energy to clean.

Here, the exposed roots are vulnerable—they depend on me for their care, their food, their water, but most importantly to handle them with a delicate touch. Leaving them unprotected can be risky, but how often do you get to see something like this it its natural state without the aid of technology.

Gently, I place the helpless plant inside its terra-cotta home already lined with a layer of the its nutrient enriched soil. I sprinkle just enough soil on top the precious roots allowing the rich nutrients of the soil to give sustenance to the plant--pacifying my worries. Giving its home a quit place to take root, I meander from plant to plant quenching their thirst. I mist water on their leaves. Watering them maybe sufficient for their growth, but the added care, I believe helps their green to brighten and their leaves to reach for the ceiling. I notice when they are not happy. It may be subtle to others, but it is obvious to me. I do not know if it is these individual plants or plants in general, but I somehow know how they are feeling. They may not talk back to me, their healthy growth of their green foliage encased within a terra-cotta pot is a reward for my hard work.