The Fragile Plant

On my window sill sits a very fragile plant.

You would think that its slender stems and paper-thin leaves would not survive the harsh winter drafts and lack of sunlight. You would suppose that its abuse and frequent water-deprivation from its sometimes less than doting owner would leave this poor plant hopeless and for dead.

But you would be wrong.

This little plant is stronger than it looks.

On the sometimes too-often occasion when it is found drooping and sullen with cracked leaves and broken stems, its owner has almost given up on it. "This plant needs far more attention than once thought!" the owner proclaims. The owner marvels at how the slightest lack of care can make it crumble.

How much care living creatures need. Sometimes not even immense care. Just care in general.

Acknowledgment of existence.

And when the owner blesses it with holy water trying to revive it (overdoses it with water, really, guilty and trying to make up for the weeks of ill-treatment and abuse) the fragile plant does the unthinkable.

It rises once again.

It comes back to life.

This unthinkably strong plant fights for its life, drinks in the water and remains. It reaches deep within itself and finds the strength to stand up tall and and survive.

And what's crazy is that this fragile plant, every time it is knocked down, comes back stronger than before.

Yes, it is weathered now. It has tears and rips in its precious pink-veined leaves. It has a few broken stems and several crackled limbs. But in its battle to survive, it somehow comes back stronger and fuller.

And after every war, the fragile plant seems to bloom. It says, 'Look at me! I'm still here! I took the abuse, I took the ill-treatment, I have lived through this war, and here I am! And I am beautiful and tall and lovely and I stand stronger this time because I lived through it.  And I'll do it again too. And I'll come back. Lovelier and brighter because now I know how."

This fragile plant is a hero.

It is innocent and damaged at the same time. It bravely sports its scars and cuts and battle wounds.

This fragile plant is a reminder to us all.

We should all be as strong as this fragile plant and let ourselves bloom in the night after the battle has ceased.

Because all we need to do is drink in the water. And the strength we thought we lost?

It lies within our crackled leaves.

Great Expectations

Maybe Shakespeare was right..."Expectation is the root of all heartache..."

Well, no one can actually confirm it was Shakespeare who said that. But most people give credit to the Bard.

Buddha agrees:

He believes that expectation is essentially evil, that attachment to high expectations leads us down a path of lows when expectations are not met.

"It is not the outcome that stole your peace - it is your decision to have expectations and emotional attachments to a specific outcome that stole your inner peace..."

Buddha didn't say that directly. Some chick on some Buddhist website said that.

I suppose most of us could be considered Buddhist failures.

I am guilty, as well. I might as well be the biggest Buddhist failure there is. It's a gift really. An uncanny knack for misreading most situations.

Well, let's ask the question then:

Is it possible to hold expectations at bay? 

Maybe.

But would that be any fun? What would happen to the daydreams and the hidden smiles? The hard work and the reached goals? The challenges met and the obstacles conquered?

Let's pick at it from another point of view. As an actor, we are always thinking, always wondering, always looking for an answer, always fighting for the outcome. We, as characters, hope and want things to turn out certain ways. Maybe we need expectations to drive us ahead, painful as they might be at times. These same painful expectations can also be unspeakably beautiful.

Most characters (at least the interesting ones), by Buddha's standards, are dismal Buddhist failure rejects. They are probably the worst of the worst. They have wild expectations and attachments to outcomes. Love, sex, death, drugs, future....the great plays are laced with expectation.

And so is real life.

Life is laced with expectation. And while Buddha and Shakespeare might be right, what are we to do about it?

Really.

How hard it is to separate what we'd like to happen, hope might happen, and think might happen from our minds and souls.

If we never expected anything, would we simply be pleasantly surprised when things DID go our way?

Would there be disappointment? Would we feel joy without the dreaded but wonderful 'expectation?'


Shakespeare wrote play after play full of shattered expectations. Life is drama.

The truth is, it is human to expect. It is human to attach ourselves to people and to desired outcomes.

We may not always get what we want.

But how sweet it is when we do.