Nature's Nature

  Garret and I planted this Soursop tree in July of 2020. Everyday since I spoke to it as if it was a human being. I even named it Prinsesa. Each time I watered it, I spoke beautiful words to it for it to grow. "Ikaw ha, lami imong mga bunga. Gwapa kag bunga." "One year and six months later it bore 2 fruits. Unfortunately, the meat was inedible as it was hard as a rock. "Ahat" we call it in Bisaya. We even jokingly said, "Nagdali man gud ni ug pamunga nga dili pa iyang panahon." It  bore fruit prematurely. Two months later there appeared from its yellow felt-like blossom another bud, showing the beginnings of a possible fruit. This time we let it be and showed it no signs of anticipation. We simply allowed it to be itself. No admonitions. No teasing of some sort. Maybe we gave some nuanced remark citing what if this fruit in particular still wouldn't be edible. 

Then one fine day sometime last month, it was ready to be harvested.  The fruit was perfect with every part of its meat succulent.

There's something that must be said about this particular experience of ours if for no other reason than to commit a poignant lesson to memory. Nature has its own course. We can give it the most beautiful admonitions we can think of but if the right season has not arrived for blooming or in this case fruition, then nothing much can be done about it except do the necessary things to make it grow and thrive and then just to allow it to run its course and let go.

That I named it “Prinsesa” is purposeful. My father gave me his term of endearment, Princess. I was his Princess. This Soursop's growth, needless to say, became a glaring reminder of what has been my path in this life. I've been guilty of too many instances of hubris, this constant need to achieve things or be someone as soon as possible. And equally many times, nature showed its, well, true nature. I wasn't ready. It didn't matter that I had the potential, the intelligence, the experience, that I was validated and affirmed with the most beautiful words for me to know I am all this and more. The circumstances, people, relationships weren't the right season for fruition, the outcome not ready for the harvest. The results, across the board, were not unlike the first two fruits from our Soursop tree. Ahat. Premature. I had to learn this relentless, most valuable lesson-- I had to let go of hubris, control. I just had to let go.

On the day the third fruit ripened, my husband Andro harvested it and handed it to Garret for the of course, obligatory photo. Judging by the scrunch on Garret's face when he carried it as seen in the photo, everyone would know it was huge and heavy not to mention ants were beginning to savor it. We brought it to the breakfast table, opened it and oh what a sight it was! Rich, white, creamy, juicy, soft and sweet to the palate. "Tanang na gyud. Hinog na," we say in Bisaya. Ripe. Mature. In season. Absolute perfection. Yes, this is what happens when we allow nature to take its course. Perfection simply unfolds.

Now, it's time to not only commit this lesson to memory. It's time to actually live it. “Let go, Princesa,” I tell myself this time,  “ you've prepared yourself, let go and let it all unfold.”

“Things take the time they take.

Don't worry.

How many roads did St. Augustine follow before he became St. Augustine?”

― Mary Oliver