Dish Garden Demo

In early June, I purchased a dish garden planted with various succulents, hoping it might serve as an attractive centerpiece on our outdoor picnic table throughout the summer months.   By the end of the second week, tendrils had far outgrown the confines of the dish.  I moved it to the other side of the deck to sway in lake breezes from an old macramé hanger, one I knotted in the 1970’s as a young bride and, for some unknown reason, still had in my possession.

The plants have continued to flourish in their dangling dish, redefining my original vision.  They’ve demonstrated courage and spaciousness, reminding me that epic growth can blow away any constriction wrought by limited expectation. That living well often involves radical change and unfolding layers rather than crimped, rational boundaries. That life is more mysterious than we think.  That transformation, filling up, and overflowing are happening everywhere, if we only have eyes to see it through the appropriate lens.

They’ve reminded me that wonder - such a precious childlike perspective – loves an object.  And we don’t need to look far.

Day-by-day, even in the midst of our busy lakeside playfulness, this family of succulent plants (such a common, ordinary thing) has encouraged me to view life with a sort of sophisticated innocence.  To celebrate each present moment as a theatrical stage with imperfect-and-maybe-broken props, one with characters who can choose to act out revolutionary hope in the midst of almost mythical change.  To expect eye-openers to surprise and stamina to swell, and active, living hope to redefine any stripped-bare, compacted plan. To live with full presence and liberated assumptions; to radiate out from home base fearlessly.