I almost gave up on it.
But I didn’t. This time, I acted upon an inkling to keep it and water it.
This inkling, also known as a sense, a glimmering, a whisper, an indication, a fancy, a hunch, an idea, a suspicion, a notion, an impression is what I’m most curious about. This subtle, but wise and powerful burst of intuition.
What is it?
It’s quick and quiet, but strong. If I hadn’t listened I would have missed it. This nudge. This slight veering of a compass needle back to due north. It’s magnetic. A pull. But against the mind it doesn’t always stand a chance. My mind quickly able to squash the nudge, to justify that the plant looked “dead” and would “be too much work” and “what was the point anyways”.
The inkling caught me at the right time and I listened.
And the orchid bloomed. After a long, long time.
and, that is the answer.
Every part about this orchid is the answer.
It is the bloom, and the dead leaves
The love and care. The leaving it alone.
Not smothering, but loving.
Slowing down. Taking its time. Patience.
On its own agenda
It is the inkling. The listening. The acting upon the inkling.
Trusting your own bloom, in and of itself.
In wild blossom spirit,