Flower Funerals & Metaphorical Fuchsias

Fuchsias (of the non-metaphorical variety)Are we there yet?

Are we there yet?


What about now?

I totally get like this every year.

At the first sign of summer, I get a serious case of can’t-wait-anymore-ness.

I have flowers on the brain.

You heard me.


Buying them.
Planting them.
Filling the porch with them.

It’s like the official sign that summer’s finally really here.

That and lightning bugs.

I never really cared about flowers until I owned a house.

And had an office that looks right out onto the barren boring empty porch.

Suddenly flowers became a big deal.

Again with the flower crack

This year was no exception.

I was totally itching for my flower fix.

Two days and twenty-two pots later, my itch got scratched.


Marigolds. Impatiens. Celosias. Angelonias.

Pure gorgeousness.

Oh, wait.

Somehow in my flower-fueled frenzy I ended up snagging two pots of fuchsias.

And you know that little plastic care tag?

The one that tells you what to do so the flowers don’t croak?

Um, yeah. I read it. When I got home.

Totally a case of too-little-too-late.com.

Because it said fuchsias need to be kept in full shade.

Full shade?

There’s no shade in our yard. Like not even a little.

And the porch is pretty much all sun, all the time.


Who does that?

I didn’t exactly want to take the flowers back.

I mean, seriously.
Who does that?

So I called Mom.

She knows a lot about flowers. She’ll know what to do.

Her answer?

“They’re going to die. Probably in two days. Maybe three.”


Dead flowers? Totally not the plan.

So I told my wife about it.

About how Mom basically told us to prepare for a flower funeral.

And how we should probably start thinking about what to get to replace the doomed fuchsias.

Her response?

“They’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

So I watched. And waited.

Curious when these hawt pink nuggets would give up the ghost and return to the Great Garden In The Sky.

I waited.

And waited.


Guess what?

They’re not dead.

In fact, they’re better than not dead.

They’re growing.
Doin’ their flower-ey thang.

My wife was right.

Or maybe we were just lucky.

I don’t know.

But this isn’t really about rightness or luck.

This is about perspective.


The default lens through which people see things.

The thing that shapes everything else.

Can I get a refill?

Mom’s a worrier.

The secretary of the Glass Half-Empty club.

A firm believer in the chicken apocalypse.

She sees problems that don’t exist.
And then spends a ton of time + energy fixing them.

My wife?

The exact opposite.

Totally chill. Almost never worries. Optimistic in a non-annoying way.

She’s all, “Apocalypse? Pshaw!”

So of course they had two totally different answers.

Because they have two totally different perspectives.

But we all have metaphorical fuchsias, don’t we?

Half-cocked plans.

Something we leap toward in a moment that’s equal parts inspiration + naïveté.

(That’s usually how the best stuff is born, isn’t it?)

Maybe it’s your new Thing you want to get off the ground.

Or your blooming business that you’re trying to make bloomier.

Or that itty bitty seed you’re still clutching in your sweaty, terrified palm.

We all have something.

Perception check in aisle four!

So before you ask somebody for care + feeding tips, check your sources.

Step back and peep their perspective.
Gut check their worldview.
Inventory their bandwidth.
Do they even have the eyes to grok your vision?

If not, keep moving.

Find someone else. Go fish.

Because asking these folks for help never ends well.

They’ll try to convince you to stay where you are.
To give it up.
To do something safe.

They’ll have you watching and waiting.

Prepping for imaginary funerals. Writing unnecessary eulogies.

Your mojo is needed elsewhere.

And it’s not that they’re trying to be unhelpful.

But worrying and Chicken-Little-ing and eulogizing is their baseline.

That’s where they’ve pointed their compass.

Which means every destination is inevitably the same.

Don’t get off there

You’re not going where they’re going.

So pick people with a different perspective.

I don’t mean people who will drown you in rahrah + sugar.

But people who believe in possibilities. In potential.

People who grok the bigness of your Thing.
And the power of your mojo.

People who believe that human beings can make unfuckingbelievable things happen.

People who understand that impossible is a sign of small vision. Not a statement of

Knock on those doors while you’re watering away.

Because your Thing deserves a fighting chance.

And perspective is everything.

Have you asked the wrong people for feedback?
What happened?
How did it affect your Thing?
How do you sort out who to ask now?

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