What I love best about plants is that they don’t care about your allegiances.
They need care, love and attention. If you do all the right things, they respond by blossoming and blooming. Seeing that is so beautiful, life affirming and validating. That’s why I keep plants, lots of them.
My therapist asked me once what I do to unwind. As soon as I come home, the first thing I do is check in on my plants. It helps calm me down. It makes me feel grounded, and it gives me some kind of cosmic, natural purpose.
It also reminds me of my mum. She was always growing vegetables and herbs in our garden at home. One whole side of the garden was dedicated to coriander, the other half, spinach. Sometimes, we’d have radish, other times onions and potatoes, and always rose bushes, white and red. When they’re in bloom, you can take some petals, roll them up, put fennel seeds, kishmish or raisins, a white, hardened sweet, and bits of cinnamon bark. It tastes so fragrant.
Whenever I eat radish and muli, our asian type of radish, I think of my mum. She’s a creationist, unwavering in her belief of the connection between the natural and the supernatural worlds.
Plants in the creationist tradition symbolise divinity. Even though I personally struggle with religion, plants are the one thing that have remained utterly, authentically, genuinely divine. They encompass spirituality like the cosmos; the Fibonacci number sequence; the creationist; the scientist; the rationalist; the humanist; forever.
My illustration in some way captures all of that. The three figures are all a reflection of me.
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