Away from the Blue Agave

Yesterday, my father commented that the meyer lemon tree in the yard was growing at an unseemly angle and to rectify this, I should tell the gardener to trim the blue agave plant growing near it. Most people will know of the spiky-looking agave as a succulent found frequently in Southern California and the source of a fancy sweetener sold in their local Whole Foods or the source of the tequila they were crushing Friday night. His reasoning was that plants had a sort of sixth sense of other plants and that the lemon tree sensed the agave. Hence, it seemed to be going for the leaning tower of Pisa look. I murmured an acknowledgement and didn’t give it another thought.

Fast forward to this afternoon. I was sitting outside brewing an excellent vintage of the Beauty of the Orient on a minimalist tea set. Leaves rustled in the background, and I turn around, facing the agave plant and lemon tree. I stared at them for a spell. And it occurred to me that what was really happening was that the lemon tree, being a young citrus and thus on the smaller size, was leaning out in the direction that it would best catch the sunlight; the lemon tree was not leaning away from the agave out of fear (as my father projected) but finding its own path to create optimal survival conditions for itself. So in fact, the leaning was an act of strength and will (or probably just plant biology) rather than one of cowering from a cactus-like succulent.

The amusing part is that yes, to humans with eyeballs, a large agave can indeed look intimidating. Luckily the lemon tree doesn’t haves eyes so won’t interpret the agave plant in the same way i.e., as threatening with all its pointy needles! It seems banal and even slightly stupid to point out that plants don’t have eyes nor the same sense of sight as people, but we human beings seem to have a hard time forgetting that not everyone (plants included) shares our perspective. This lack of true empathy leads to constant misunderstandings and hurt feelings in the human world, and as it would appear, mistaken motivations in the plant world.

That my father felt concerned for the well-being of the burgeoning lemon tree, is considerate, I suppose. But what remains fascinating to me is how telling his reaction is, that when he projects it’s a feeling of avoidance. I generally try not to read too much into what can often be offhand comments, but in this particular instance, his perspective uncannily reveals his true inclinations. To put it gently, he is not the confrontational type, however innocuous the encounter.

So, the point I actually wanted to make has nothing to do with my father and everything to do with the insight of what was actually at work, beyond one’s own perspective and ideas. Insights come (and maybe most do) when one’s mind is very settled and calm (thanks to the tea) and not thinking about anything in particular. Was it a ground-breaking flash of brilliance? No, cancer still doesn’t have a definitive cure, but I noted the circumstances with interest.