… When talking to the tree, and later to the house pants in the home, the lonely old man would speak of the present as if it were the past time when he used to live in an old folks’ home. In his descriptions, he was always careful to appreciate the home. He didn’t want the plants to think he was complaining, but he made it clear he was glad that particular episode of his life was over. Overhearing such conversations caused some residents to be concerned, but others found it refreshing, as they also wished they could put the present behind them. As for the house plants, particularly the philodendrons, they were entirely receptive and sympathetic. They too longed to live in another time and place. The sea breezes of their tropical homeland could still be felt in the depths of their mitochondria, and there were hours in the night when the ocean breeze in them caused their broad leaves to move about as if in a dance. Oh yes, they too longed to escape from the confines of the air-conditioned hallways, from the potted soil in which they lived. Whenever the old man spoke to them, though his conversation was rambling, they always listened intently, because he seemed to know how to move through time and space even while standing still, and that was exactly what they wished to do.      

 

One night, the old man woke from a frightful dream, and though he was awake, he felt his heart break. It split open like a germinating acorn. From dark space deep down within himself,  a place he did not even know existed, a little green shoot began to struggle upward. Although we all love plants, it is a terrifying sensation to feel a plant growing inside you, especially if you know that plant is going to become a very large tree. The old man got out of bed and paced about. He put on his bathrobe, thinking he would go to down the infirmary; but then he realized it was three o’clock in the morning and no nurse would be on duty. Fully expecting to die, he lay down on his bed and prepared for the worst, and he fell asleep in a dreadful state of worry.

 

To his relief, the shoot was gone when he woke up the next morning. He carefully examined himself, feeling for any new and unwanted bumps under his skin. Nothing of the shoot could be felt, but the experience caused him to have a profound sense of growth. There was no longer any pressure or pain in his chest, but whenever he closed his eyes there was the unmistakable sensation of rapid growth taking place. This growth he could feel in every part of his body; indeed, in every cell of his body! And yet, it seemed not a physical growth, but something far more subtle—and real! Though there was no shoot or visible plant, he knew roots were reaching down into the very core of his being. The roots were not only massive in size, they reached down miles and miles into his being.