#30: One Down


At thirty years old, I encountered a local writer and singer who belonged to a rock band of national fame.  Since there are no innocents in this story, names and places have been purposely avoided.  But naturally, a tale that has to do with orchids must be told.

After an hour of glimpses at each other in a downtown gathering establishment, the  writer with floppy hair and lanky limbs sauntered up and sat beside me.  In one penetrating look from piercing blue eyes, my Virgoan philosophy was about to be tested.

I was a professional horticulturist, recently separated from a marriage, first time living alone, and a wanna-be wordsmith, none of which he knew.  My ex unwittingly had starved me of communication and certainly poetry, and the rock star spoke directly to the center of my needs and vanity.

“You’re an orchid, aren’t you,” he said.  “A Brazilian orchid.”    After another beat of observation, he added,  “Cultivated, not wild.”

3 thoughts on “#30: One Down

  1. After the spiritual starvation of the marriage went away, it is indeed a beautiful thing that you were instantly recognized for being a Brazilian orchid, cultivated not wild. I think that is a beautiful, most insightful compliment and one that was the exact thought you needed to go forward with the life you wanted for yourself.

  2. It was an insightfull compliment for sure, but I am writing a bigger piece on my ego and vanity at that time,how I learned to face it and go deeper into the spiritual, and that incident was not exactly positive in going forward. It was more about being hooked on the feeding of the ego. It’s nice you see it in a positive light though, because I don’t want to get into the deeper lessons with the paintings, it’s not the story I am telling with her.

    • I eagerly await the story of your journey. I recall one time an older gentleman in a flea market once told me I was like a ripe strawberry. I was a little taken back and asked him if that was because I had bright red lipstick on and he said no, it was a beautiful sweet fruit that radiated an energy of love. I thought about that man’s insight and accepted his words then as a lovely compliment. That was in my much younger days, but I always remember that man’s words especially when some extremely ugly words were hurled my way by drunken, drugged up violent clientele in the ER calling me every vile word you can imagine. I took the compliment of the strawberry with me in my mind where it was like a protector deflecting the horrible behavior by people with no soul and found it was a gift that gave me great strength. To this day, I think of that gentleman in the flea market and wish I could go back in time and have a conversation with him about his life.

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