The Turk’s Cap and The Art of The Comeback

My favorite plant was stolen a few months ago. I was devastated. Over a plant. I know, I know, but you all know I’m odd- and sentimental. So, if you’ve seen the office garden out front that’s all me. I like to work with the Earth. They get a little overgrown but on weekends you’ll see me weeding, pruning, watering, tending. It grounds me. They’re all great plants but for some reason I really grew to love the Turk’s cap. It’s bushy, and it has these lovely broad leaves, the red flowers that give it the name, and they grow little apples if they’re happy enough. I like the plant. I have no explanation for you. 

I came out one day from working late and saw that my beloved plant was the tops of a root of a bush and had been cut off at all of the branches!

I kid you not, I cried. Yeah. I cried. Some asshole stole my plant. I was confused and livid. Not angry- livid. I was ready to go to war. Who took my plant?! And why?! A baby turk’s cap is like ten bucks at Home Depot. Why on Earth would someone take the time to bring pruning shears and steal a ten dollar plant from the front of a building?! Why did you have to cut it?! At least uproot it so it has a chance! What the hell?! It was a very odd thing. Anyone who knows what they’re doing wouldn’t cut it like this. The whole plant. Just boom, gone.

 The saddest part for me was that I knew that a plant cut like this would die. If you’re going to steal a plant, please take the taproot. Or at least cut it at an angle where rooting hormone can settle in. They took a life as far as I was concerned. They stole my friend! 

The garden needed attention anyway so one night that week I tended to everything and tried to pull it up. I was planning to plant another. Mind you, not so long ago this lot was full of weeds. These plants are not old nor are they well established. Well, that’s when the chaos started. (Surprise! Chaos with me involved.) 

My nephew was with me. The two of us took a large shovel and tried to dig it up. To our surprise there were several thick anchoring roots that burrowed down. We pushed. We pulled. We cussed. We tried to saw at the roots. We tried to bang at them with the shovel. We used our weight and pulled until we fell over. What was left of this plant was NOT moving. And so, we left it. The tiny ember of hope I had about it coming back glimmered and I said “Leave it. Let’s see what happens.” Honestly? I respected the damn plant. I saw myself there. “You will not move me unless I want to move. I will grow back stronger than ever.” Round one to the roots. Strong roots are EVERTHING.

I’m not quite sure when or how it happened, but it came back! One day I saw a leaf. I thought it was the dandelions I’m always begrudgingly uprooting. (A weed is just a flower out of place. And they’re good for the bees!) But I left it because I wasn’t sure. Then, a few more leaves. And now, we’ve got this GIANT, stunning, lush, bright red Turk’s Cap bush.

My healthy Turk’s cap is back and I couldn’t be happier! Y’all. I literally say good morning to this plant every day when I come in. Again, I have no explanation. We all have our quirks I guess. 

My little Turk’s Cap made me think about how resilient it was. And then it had me thinking of all of you, all of us: little humans in big space on this floating rock just trying to make it all work. 

Resiliency is a concept I have to go over a lot in my office. My traumatized often identify as “tough.” They are, but they’re also defensive. Fearful. They don’t feel very resilient. They don’t identify as such. When I bring this up they’ll identify as a survivor but they’re not so sure if they qualify as “resilient.” Honestly? In that defensive energy they’re not- NOT YET. Resiliency is the ability to snap back. If you’re angry, fearful, defensive, isolating, you haven’t moved through yet. That isn’t survivor energy. That’s still active fear.

It’s not abut surviving gracefully, prettily, or even quietly. If you’re alive then you did it right! Those deep roots on the Turk’s cap? That’s the tenacity, the foundation, the core of my clients. They are grasping to the Earth and won’t be moved. They may be afraid but they aren’t moving. I admire that and watching this process never gets old. I’m always impressed with the human ability to survive. Not everyone makes it, and I’ve had a couple of clients who unfortunately didn’t but most of them do. 

*And it is one of the coolest things I’ve ever watched unfold!*

Clients come into my office as victims but identifying as survivors. They know they’re capable of it but boy do they hate it when I use the word “victim.” They look like they sucked on a lemon. They find the word deeply disgusting. It’s understandable but you can’t be a survivor without first being a victim. You also won’t heal if you don’t acknowledge that you have been wounded. But they have those deep roots, and they want to will the leaves to grow. They guilt, they shame, they cajole and tantrum their roots: “Grow damnit! This is taking too long! Grow.” Nothing grows without nurturing. Shame and guilt will do nothing but poison the roots. 

My little plant taught me that sometimes all is not lost when we think it is. Patience is key- and sometimes we just need to go dormant, rest, and regroup. Then, we come back with a vengeance. Just like my beautiful Turk’s Cap. Human or not, nature always finds a way!