In All Humility

In All Humility

There is a houseplant on the patio table. For a few weeks before, it had been on the nightstand near my bed. It has no choice as to where it resides.

If it is left in a dark room for too long, it will weaken and succumb. If it is left for too long in the full sun, its leaves will sunburn and fall away. It depends upon me to water it regularly, or it will wilt and die. Wherever it happens to be, and whatever the circumstances of the care or lack of care it’s given, it does at all times only what it can do. To the extent that it survives, it flourishes; to the extent that it languishes, it dies. It goes from moment to moment responding to the present situation entirely and exactly as is—without any resistance whatsoever. Composed of the same living energy that I am, wherever it goes when it dies is where I go. Whatever the meaning of its life while it lives is the meaning of my life. Whatever the nature of its connection in the wholeness, so is my connection.