I Water My Plants

Metaphorical Narrative

Some mornings, I stand over the plant on my windowsill. It’s not exotic, not rare, and certainly not Instagram-famous. But it’s mine.

I water it because I want to see it grow — not because the neighbours will notice, not because it will make me look like a “plant person,” and not because some productivity guru told me to.

I water it because it is mine to care for.

Maybe the “plant” is a skill you’re learning, a friendship you value, or the state of your own mental health. The plant doesn’t care about trends, judgment, or applause. It only knows when you’ve shown up for it — and when you haven’t.

When you pour water on it, you’re quietly saying:

“This is my life. I choose what I nurture.”

Core Insight

After the King of the Two Slots clears the noise, you’re left with space to tend to what’s yours. This is where sovereignty deepens — not just saying “no” to what drains you, but saying “yes” to what matters to you, even if it’s small, unseen, and uncelebrated. The act itself is the reward.

Saturday Experiment

1. Pick your “plant.” It might be literal — a real plant, a pet, a hobby. Or figurative — your journal, your physical health, your art.
2. Give it attention without broadcasting. Do it quietly. No announcement, no seeking validation.
3. Notice your ownership. Feel the difference between doing it because you choose to and doing it for an audience.

Sunday Reflection

Write in third-person. Make a list if that helps to narrow the focus.

• What is theirs [Your Name] to care for right now?
• Where in their life do they still seek permission to tend to it?
• And what changes when they decide that the simple act of showing up for it — plant or not — is reason enough?