42. The Ocotillo

Nora moved to the desert, and found a dead plant in her yard. Turns out, it was not only dead, but it was a metaphor for being alive.

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I’m Nora McInerny, and it’s going to be okay.

{ambient outdoor noises from Nora’s front yard}

My family and I moved to Phoenix, Arizona in 2020. It meant learning a whole new city, meeting new friends, and truly acclimating to a new climate and ecosystem. 

It meant learning not to use the clothes dryer at night because scorpions will be attracted to the warmth. 

It meant learning that palm trees need to be trimmed.

It meant learning that the thing that LOOKS like a bunch of dead sticks in our yard is actually a beautiful, LIVING plant that is protected under the native species law in Arizona.

It’s called an Ocotillo.

And when we bought the house in the middle of a several-years-long drought, I said aloud within earshot of the realtor that we’d need to rip it out.

And he – a normally very calm guy – practically shouted NO! No! DO NOT DO THAT!

Not only because it was protected, but because it isn’t dead.

And what I’ve learned since about this beautiful desert plant, like so many desert plants, is that it blooms. But only when it can. Only when there has been enough rain or enough irrigation. Only when it has the time and the energy.

Two summers ago, it rained a ton here in Phoenix. And this ocotillo? It was green almost all season. Because it had the energy! Because it had the resources. It was not on some endless quest to constantly be “on,” like many humans are. 

More than once I’ve heard a self-help author say something along the lines of “if you’re not growing, you’re dying” which is very catchy and also, not something that really holds up to much scrutiny. Even the growing are sometimes dying, for example. And sometimes, for your survival or your rest or any reason at all, you’re not MEANT to be growing.

Nature teaches us a lot of lessons like that. It teaches us that there are seasons for growth, and there are entire seasons for rest. There are even seasons dedicated to looking like a dead pile of sticks, like every deciduous tree in the Upper Midwest right now. To looking like a ghoulish, ghostly shell of our former selves. 

There are probably people out there who have very healthy relationships with things like self-improvement and setting goals for themselves. But if you are like me, you’re not one of them! You are a person who is ALL OR NOTHING, BABY. 

If you are blooming now, wonderful. If all you can do is simply exist like a pile of sticks? Beautiful.

If you have ever become grist in the wheels of the self-help industry, I want this plan in my front yard to offer you a break from growth, from performing, from trying to become a different version of yourself.

You’ll bloom again when you’re ready. And until then, we’ll appreciate the pile of sticks.