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Better Left Unsaid?!


Being old, this truism has finally found some perch on one of the branches that have sprouted in my mind. As with a wild growth in the middle of a field, or forest, the origin of the seed is not identified to me, only the plant that has risen up. For the longest time, this particular limb has grown without much other than a leaf on occasion, but as with some branches, it has finally bloomed after many seasons of little evidence of anything meaningful.

It now occurs to me that there have been other branches of similar ilk. There were also branches that bloomed radiantly and often, but the glow of which belied their significance other than for show. Apparently, some branches flower every season and others just hang out waiting for a certain occurrence of conditions.

Those regularly blooming branches were well recognized, nurtured by reinforcement from others who walked the location in which my plant found itself (teachers, parents, employers, perhaps), and they showed the product of their bloom to those walking in the garden (or greenhouse) that I was getting water and nutrients sufficient to thrive. However, some plants, if not all plants, need to be pruned of the regular growth in order to allow a special growth that only they have, and sometimes that pruning occurs as the result of drought or absence of proper fertilization.

Certainly, most plants have only one growth pattern, one fruit or flower produced. They are relied upon, and rely upon, that production and it traces all the way back to when they first sprouted. It is their raison d’etre and they can never forget it or get away from it. They have comfort in it. They are sure of it and always revert to it in time of stress. Farmers love those plants. If there is not enough water for a period, they let a few branches drop off, they tighten up the skin of the branches to guard against impurities sneaking in the pores that are open and looking for moisture, hoping that the drought will end.

The peculiar branch never stops growing, even though the growth can be retarded at times. It keeps seeking nutrients no matter from where they might originate. As a result, the branch sometimes takes in something that does not seem to work with the existing chemistry of the branch, but once absorbed, the branch carries on. The plant may be surprised, but the plant realizes that it is the type of plant that is a surprise, both to others and to itself.

The plant that grows the same branch continuously, trusts that branch, it promotes that branch in lieu of all other growth. Such plant does not understand why every plant is not the same as it. The peculiar branch wonders why there can be no adjustment from the steady branch, but only for a couple of seasons. Maybe decades of seasons, as time is different for plants and they only know seasons that come and go. They have no awareness that at some point, they may not have a next season.

The plant that grows the peculiar branch is like the sheriff hired to clean up the town. The townspeople are the regular plants. They know how to grow, how to bend around obstacles put up, how to survive without water and nutrients for a while, and they are willing to do so because that is what they know, what they have been taught and what they have been conditioned to accept. Eventually, though, too many of them are suffering and they call on the sheriff, the peculiar guy, to deal with the evil that has fallen on them. Once the sheriff has taken care of business, though, he is called out for being peculiar, as he is now seen as the odd ball that he is and the other plants, and the gardener, cannot abide them when there is no drought or other emergency. Move on he must, with thoughts better left unsaid.

Politics is a form of farming. When we were in the caves, and for all aboriginal peoples, words to not carry the day, actions do. There are no elections, just affirmations.

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