I was sitting in my reading chair and I spotted the growth of a new leaf on my pothos plant. It was budding from the edge. For some reason, I’ve always thought that the vines grew from the root. The leaves flow over much like hair so in my mind I assumed the vines grew just like my hair. The new making its way by pushing out the old. But this plant’s leaves grew from the edges.
Isn’t that nourishing? Because although it does not grow like our hair, it does grow like us. It grows on the edges. Its roots are used for grounding. They are the foundation on which we build but not the end of our growth. Our growth indeed happens on the edges, spaces where we feel we are left dangling at the mercy of gravity, our foundation, our roots, and the versions of ourselves that came before this new leaf was birthed. The edge is a vulnerable place as we look down at the ground that lies below, while also aware that we cannot stay safe inside of the shell of the old us. In this very moment, we recognize the necessity of the previous versions of ourselves. How critical they are to our new leaves. We notice that each leaf before us had a divine purpose. Each leaf that came before us had to do the same, to be birthed because its growth could no longer be contained. It was scary for them too but they grew anyway and if they had not we wouldn’t be here. I am grateful for each version of myself that birthed who I am today. I am grateful for each version of you that has made you who you are today. I am grateful for every root that stabilized us and every leaf that came before us. I am grateful for all the ways we have hung on to us and defied gravity. Ubuntu- I am because you are.
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