I have to say I really admire the cactus.
Cactus lives in a harsh, unforgiving environment. For the most part, it receives very little water or nourishment, but when it rains, the cactus must be able to store up as much as it can to make it through the next dry spell – and who knows how long that will be. When the rain comes, and the cactus has replenished its reserves, it flowers. If things are really good, it can even bear fruit. Good thinking for the designers of the cactus to make those awesome succulent leaves that can stockpile sustenance. Sharing a habitat with the cactus are many other hungry and thirsty critters who could use an easy meal. So the cactus has armor. And spines. And the critters leave it alone. And it survives.
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Prickly Pear Cactus
Photo by Art Poskanzer |
A fact to which I do not often admit is that I grew up in South Texas, home of the Prickly Pear Cactus (also the jumping jack cactus which, in addition to the attributes listed above, is constantly set to “attack” mode. I was on the receiving end of this the assassin of succulents on an endurance ride in El Paso once. Yeowch). I have lived in Colorado for nearly 20 years, so I do not consider myself a Texan anymore (really didn’t consider myself a Texan during the 23 years I LIVED in Texas, but that’s another story). However, when you’ve been gone from somewhere for 20 years, the memory of all the reasons you don’t live there start to fade, and you wax nostalgic from time to time as you consider reclaiming your heritage. Thus, on one September car trip back to the land of my birth, I decided that it would be super fun to make prickly pear preserves. I stopped by the side of some lonesome Texas Highway, and used a newspaper to pluck a bagful of the richly colored magenta fruit from its spiny home. Now nature wants these little beauties to mature right there on the plant, not get eaten by some hungry deer or bird before the seeds can grow on their own, so they have spines too. Each one of these fruits must be peeled prior to cooking. May I please tell you how MANY spines these suckers have, and how incredibly fine they are. It took me WEEKS to stop feeling like I had shards of glass in every single finger. The preserves never really set, and were more like syrup, but were tasty and made great Christmas gifts that year. Take home message? When you’re having to put all your energy into just staying alive because pickin’s are slim, you develop some pretty high-level defense systems.
On the other hand, let’s look at the orchid. Delicate stems, fragile leaves, gorgeous flowers with ornate, colorful petals. No shortage of food and water in the rain forest. The survival of this lovely depends not on being tough, but on being attractive. The orchid needs to bat its shy, demure eyelashes at every bug that comes by, just begging to be pollinated and cross-pollinated. If by chance the orchid is trampled or eaten, there are 30 more in the same zip code who now have a better chance.
Perhaps you’re wondering at this point if you’re reading the wrong blog. How did we get from mental health to horticulture?
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WOW! This orchid is called "The Dove."
Is that gorgeous or what?
Image courtesy of image*after |
There’s a great analogy for relationship here. We are attracted to each other like bugs to an orchid. (Imagine how romantic I am in my real life J) Our avatar eyes meet across a crowded internet chat room and it’s kismet . . . we are drunk on the sweet nectar of the first 3 to 6 months of a relationship. We make sure to have the exact recipe of attention and adoration that makes the other swoon. It feels great to lavish the other with thoughtfulness, consideration, respect. We promise it will be this way always, that we will not repeat our past transgressions of too much pruning, or too little, short attention span, too many plants in the greenhouse . . . we are the rain forest and there’s plenty to go around. And then life kicks in. Truth is we are not in the rain forest after all, and it takes actual work to care for a plant, as it does to nurture a relationship. The world of addiction treatment has a saying (which I may or may not be quoting accurately because I remember it from Sandra Bullock in "28 Days" which is a GREAT movie by the way) – “when you get sober, get a plant. If it’s still alive in a year, get a pet. If in a year the pet is still alive, then you are ready to think about a relationship.” I think this can be true for most adults in general. I’ll save my “evils of society in general” soapbox for later, but will say that we don’t exactly value the concept of “high maintenance” these days. There’s a reason that describing someone as a “hothouse flower” isn’t really a compliment.
Also keep in mind that most of us come to the relationship arena with particular wounds and sensitivities. By the time we get to our 20’s, 30’s 40’s . . . we’re the scratch and dent models, so unless we’re careful, we find out that that lovely orchid has developed some thorns. Pretty sure with millions of years of slowly changing climate, we would see that orchid turn into a well-defended cactus. Put that in the pressure cooker of the relationship and you can see the transition in mere months.
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I use stock photos for this blog.
I searched "Orchid" and this photo came up.
It made me laugh so I thought I'd post it.
Image courtesy of David et Magalie |
If you want a low maintenance relationship, take home a cactus. Be aware though that though your cactus might not nag and micromanage you to get its needs met, it has spines and isn’t especially cuddly. Don’t treat it like a cactus and then blame it for being a cactus. Similarly, if you want an orchid, be ready to put in the legwork. If you treat your orchid like a cactus, don’t be mad at it for wilting and eventually dying. You get out of the relationship what you put into it.
