Roots - The Things That Hold Us

What once lived beside us may be gone and still keeps us standing. Its the real power of the life.

I was planting flowers, but first the soil needed to be replaced - the way it sometimes must be in a flower box. After several years of feeding the plants, it had become tired and exhausted.

It is surprisingly hard work. One thinks it is simply a matter of removing the old soil and pouring in new earth. But beneath the surface there is an entire world. Tangled roots, delicate and strong, living and long dried out. Over the years, all the root systems had grown into one another.

There were roots of plants still alive, but also roots of those long gone, only their dry remains left behind, intertwined with the roots of the new plants, supporting them, feeding them. It was almost impossible to separate them while trying to remove the old soil.

It had been dry. It hadn’t rained for weeks. The earth was light and dusty, swirling around me and settling on my hands, in my hair, and across my face. During work like this, one realizes that soil is not something clean or orderly. It is alive.

And I found myself thinking about how roots show us the importance of all that came before us - our ancestors, parents, friends, neighbors, and everyone we have ever met. Just like those plants that are no longer here, no longer alive, and yet their roots still give strength to those that continue to grow.

How much of what keeps us alive comes from people who are no longer here.

Even though the soil was so dry and empty of nutrients, some of the plants still looked healthy and full of life. Fresh green leaves, the strength to keep growing, where did it come from?

It was their roots that kept them alive.

I understood it fully when I lifted all the plants out and placed them into a box to wait while I replaced the soil and planted them again. It did not take long, perhaps half an hour before I returned to them.

But I was surprised.

In that short time lying in a cardboard box, stripped of the network of roots, the support of the past, the protection of the soil, exposed to wind and sun - and the little plants already looked as though they were dying. Their leaves were wilted, hanging low, almost sad.

Oh God, I thought. So this is the power of roots.

And I hurried to place them back into the soil, to water them, touch them gently, and help them find what they needed again in the new soil.

This small experience inspired me to give thanks to everyone who came before me, everyone who stands beside me now, and even those who passed through my life only briefly and yet whose roots still contribute to the fact that I am alive, that I have strength, that I can still feel joy.

Perhaps a small ritual of gratitude is enough to thank them for allowing me to be here healthy, alive, and happy.