Introducing My Plant, Minty

I was feeling down late last night. I knew spending time with Minty would be just the ticket, so I put on an old movie, took out my paper and coloring pencils, and got to work on her portrait.

Minty smells good, especially when I play with her long, curly tendrils. When I spray her with water or give her a bath, she laughs and laughs and splashes me back with cool fragrant currents of minty-ness.

She is very beautiful and knows it, yet she is not conceited.

She’s laid back and relaxed. She accepts people, places, things and situations as they are, and is, therefore, very serene.

She was a sixties flower child in San Francisco in her previous incarnation. She wore flowers in her hair and dressed in long, soft, tie-dyed cotton maxi dresses and sandals. She wrote poetry and drew flowers. She was at the first Love-In and Be-In. Sometimes, when I’ve played “Abraham, Martin and John”, I’ve seen a little tear slip down the side of her planter.

That’s not to say she is a sad plant. Far from it. She just has feelings, and lets them come out. It keeps her healthy.

It cheers me up to see her each morning because she is so happy to be alive.

One day, I was dancing in the living room. Something moved me to dance over to Minty. I asked her if she wanted to leap her spirit onto mine and dance with me. As I continued twirling and dancing through the room, I felt her tendrils flowing from the ends of my fingers.

Last night, she told me it is part of my soul’s journey to learn to create a sense of wellbeing on my own, independent of other people’s opinions and treatment of me. I also need to learn to trust my own reality, even if the whole world denies it.

I said, “It’s so tough to do sometimes, Minty.”

She said, “For sure.”

I said, “I survived as a kid by pretending my family’s version of reality was real and true, and then almost coming to believe it–when the truth was my family was not reflecting reality at all. As an adult, it’s still hard sometimes to trust my own reality when others vehemently deny it.”

She said, “That’s how you know it’s a life lesson. It keeps coming up over and over again.”

I said, “It’s a drag, man.”

She said, “I hear you, sister. Just remember, it’s all about love in the end. It’s the only thing that matters. All else will fall away one day, but that. When you are feeling down or wake up in the night empty and sad, focus on love. Think of the things you love, the people you love. See them in your mind’s eye.”

I said, “You are so wise, Minty. But I just have to say—you are such a flower-child! Did you like that song, the one that goes, ‘If you’re going to San Francisco, be sure to wear some flowers in your hair’?”

She said, “He wrote that for me, you know.”

I said, “No way!”

“Way!”

Isn’t Minty the coolest?

My Portrait of Minty

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Minty in Real Life

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3 thoughts on “Introducing My Plant, Minty

  1. It really happened once. I felt the energy of her tendrils flowing through the air from my fingers. I’ve got to do that again.

    I don’t know what kind of mint she is. I am going to research it later on the Internet and see if I can identify her. I bought her at the grocery store. I saw a spearmint plant there another day and was sorry I didn’t buy her.

    I saw a butterfly on our outside walking deck the day I wrote that family member recently. I thought of you. : )

    Liked by 1 person

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