Turning A New Leaf by Jamie Saloff

Good Morning and Welcome back to Rainbows, Potholes and Nuggets of Gold blog! I mentioned quite a while back that I opened this space to friends to share their spiritual insights. Jamie has shared with us before and I believe you'll enjoy this post as well. Take it away, Jamie...

Thanks, Pam. I shared this in my newsletter back in January and am thrilled to share with your readers today.
I’d just stepped out of the shower when something caught my eye. Over in the corner, a large plant atop a corner stand appeared to be vibrating. I’d heard something "pop," and as I looked up, I could see one of the palm stalks vibrating back and forth.

Early last spring, I’d brought home a beautiful flowering Rio plant with palm fronds poking up through the center. The bright red, bell-shaped flowers had caught my eye, and I knew I had to have it. Hubby chided me for paying so much for a plant that wasn’t expected to live in our moderate climate. "We’d agreed," he said, "to only buy perennials."

Throughout our very hot summer, I kept the Rio watered, and it thrived. Each time I walked past it, I’d smile. It was just gorgeous. All too soon, fall arrived. Hubby asked me if I planned to just let it die or if I would be taking it inside?

To be honest, I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I’d grown used to the first frosts of fall browning and weakening our plants that would soon be buried beneath several feet of snow. I had no idea where I might put this large plant that now stood about 50" tall in a pot 10" round.

Together, we managed to get it into the house, find a receptacle large enough to hold the outdoor plastic pot, and one that miraculously seemed to just fit atop the aforementioned stand in my bathroom. I figured it would be warm enough there since that room had its own dedicated baseboard heater, and that the steam heat from my showers would also be beneficial for its longevity through the long, cold winter.

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​The first month took a hard toll on the Rio. It may have been nipped by an early frost. One by one, all of the remaining red flowers found their way to my bathroom floor, my toilet seat, and other nearby places. I cut the Rio back, hoping to give it as much energy as possible to preserve itself. Still, a few weeks in, I began to fear it didn’t have enough light.

We purchased some plant lights, set a timer for them to turn on and off, and waited and hoped that with proper watering, encouraging daily peptalks, and a couple of plant food sticks, it would revive itself. 

And it did! Although I saw no new blooms, tiny tendrils began stretching out for the plant lights and the window. I encouraged her to hold steady despite the bitter cold I felt certain she could feel being near a window. I also knew the lack of sunlight in what has been a grey, snow-filled winter made a difference as well.

To be honest, I’d pretty much ignored the palm fronds through all this. Several had browned along the top edges way before we brought the Rio inside, and, being that they nearly touched the ceiling, I’d considered cropping them back, but hadn’t, mostly because they’d be hard for me to reach.

Looking at the vibrating stalk, I realized that, without my noticing, this new palm leaf had grown double its previous size. The "pop" was it unsticking itself from the stalk so it could now unfurl itself into a full-size new leaf. As it reached its full unwound width, I noticed a tiny hole at the top. I then realized what I had heard "pop" as it freed itself from its winding. How much energy must it have unleashed to begin this amazing process?

I guess I am a child at heart, as this whole thing has utterly fascinated me. Each time I walk into the bathroom, I check to see how much further it has unwound itself. At first, just about 1/2", and daily, an inch or so more. This, despite being quite close to its neighboring stalk, which doesn’t seem to hinder its unveiling. It somehow has the energy to pull itself past the other as it continues its fantastic opening.

Despite my husband reminding me that "not everything has to mean something," I kind of like the idea that my Rio and company are "turning over a new leaf." It reminds me that as I move forward into new pathways and adventures, that, despite having dropped its flowers, fought to survive with inappropriate light, and facing colder than the norm temperatures, my Rio is growing, so I must be too.

There are times when we don’t always see the changes and growth we are stepping into until they are smack-dab in front of us. Yet, here is a sign that even if conditions aren’t optimal, we definitely are. The phrase, "grow where you are planted," surely fits here as my Rio shows me just how natural it is to turn over a new leaf. 

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​Jamie’s passion is assisting those seeking relief from grief, pain, and strife, while empowering them to follow their heart and intuition. For thirty years, she has taught clients how to transform their lives by listening to their soul weep and their body groan. Jamie is a certified metaphysician through Lily Dale’s prestigious Fellowships of the Spirit. She’s the author of twelve books, including her Marvelous Messages™ series.

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