The Death Dance

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If you are a regular reader of my blog, you might remember the tragic story of Lola. You might also remember that I said Matteo was thriving. Well, Matteo is no longer thriving (if you don’t know what I am talking about, I am talking about my cacti plants. Lola died in October and up until about a week ago Matteo was thriving).

About a week ago I noticed the color of the base of Matteo starting to change. It was very slight where most people wouldn’t notice, but I did. I knew what was about to unfold, but I didn’t want to believe it was true.

This is the third cactus I have had that has been great and then all of a sudden is not so great. I am watching the death dance unfold in front of me. Matteo is still technically alive, but that is really a glorified plant version of should be in the hospital on life support.

The more I wanted Matteo to live the quicker he seemed to die. I was feeling like my love was crushing him like a boa constrictor does its prey. I was hoping his base would turn back to that bold, beautiful, green, but with each passing day Matteo became more translucent. As the base turned lighter, there started to be a twist in the way Matteo was standing. The once sturdy base was rotting from the inside out. I knew there was no hope and Matteo was a goner.

It is the circle of life. Things sprout, then grow, change, and slowly or sometimes suddenly, they die.

I know this, but I felt like I should’ve had more time with Matteo. Isn’t this true for things in life? I remember when my grandpa died (I’m writing this January 29, 2021) two years and a few days ago that I felt the same way about my time with him.

I wanted to hold on, that boa constrictor tendency to crush the dying with my love was coming out. The life once displayed in my grandfather’s eyes was clearly departing, he was going through his translucent transformation if you will, and it was his time to go and yet it felt like I was being robbed of my time with him.

Isn’t it funny how time works? One extra minute with a person you love feels like a nanosecond, but a minute waiting for something in the microwave seems like an eternity.

This experience, or third experience if you will, with my poor, sweet cactus dying made me think about life and the wanting to control the outcome of things. Also, the scariness of doing things without the reassurance of how it will turn out.

Our time is precious. What we do with our time is precious. How we act is important. How we show up for ourselves and others is important. How we show up for the planet is important. The big and little things alike are important.

If you are waiting to start something, don’t. Just do. If you are looking for a sign to do something, this is it. If you are wondering if you should really do that something you’ve been dreaming about, you really should.

Don’t let your life pass you by in the blink of an eye. Live with intention.

Who knows when you will be doing your death dance.

How are you going to make sure to be living your life to the fullest?

Until next time,

-H

Published by Hannah Opp

My name is Hannah and I am a certified integrative nutrition health coach. I love nature, animals, and going on adventures.

One thought on “The Death Dance

  1. I concur with your advice, Hannah! “Live with intention.” I’m sorry about your losses.

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