Loose Leaf Notes

(AKA: Why is my face on a billboard?!)
The first time I saw an Iris flower, I was probably 7 years old. It was growing on the side of a big old abandoned house that was destined to be torn down by the time I was a teenager. I thought it was an orchid. It was the most beautiful flower I had ever seen, and so unlikely to be growing next to a house that all the kids in my Hull Village neighborhood thought was haunted.
Years ago, I read somewhere that talking to your plants helps them to grow. At that time, I was reading a variety of metaphysical fare, such as “The Aquarian Conspiracy” by Marilyn Ferguson. And so, the idea of plants responding to the human voice only seemed to confirm what I was already coming to accept, that there’s more going on in this world than what we can actually see. I have since fallen away from metaphysical studies – where science and spirit meet – although I still hold an interest in such things.
I have to confess to those who read my recent post “Brunch at Tupelo Honey,” in which I announce that blogging has cured me of shopping, that I actually did buy one item before leaving Asheville, North Carolina, where I was visiting my eldest son. It was a book, of course (who can resist buying at least one book in Asheville’s wonderfully independent bookstore called Malaprops?).
The book is titled “The Hidden Messages in Water” and was written by Dr. Masaru Emoto. At first, flipping through the pages, I thought it was full of snowflake photographs. I love snowflakes and would like to learn more about them, which is why I was drawn to the book. But it wasn’t about snowflakes. It was about how water responds to human intention and particularly to the spoken word.
According to Dr. Emoto (whose work was presented in the movie “What the Bleep Do We Know?!), speaking kind, encouraging, or prayerful words to natural water causes it to respond by forming beautiful symmetrical crystallized patterns. If you speak harshly to the same water, the crystals don’t form. In one exercise the author, who uses a high speed camera and microscope in a very cold room, photographed the changing expression of water as it responded to the words “Let’s do it,” and then to “Do it.” Apparently, the forces of nature don’t respond well to commands of force because “Do it” produced a flat, dull image; whereas “Let’s do it” resulted in brilliant snowflake patterns.
The implications that water responds to the human voice is enormous. If water responds to kindness, what doesn’t?
When my family and I moved into our log home on the Blue Ridge Parkway over 10 years ago, we inherited several beds of perennials, one being a large outcropping of purple iris. Over the years, the May blooming irises have petered out. I can now count the ones that bloom on one hand. Too little sun? Do they need fertilizer? Or are they just reaching the end of their lifespan?
I don’t know what’s got into the Iris, but on my morning walks in the garden, I’ve taken to talking to them gently, telling them how beautiful they are. Is that what the birds are doing in the spring, singing the flowers into bloom?
About the photo: I looked through my photo albums and this is the only picture I could find of an iris. The picture is way bigger than I intended to post (my computer skills have been on an uphill learning curve) and was taken on my birthday in 1997. I cropped my husband out because he was making a goofy face (and was also wearing an iris in his hair). I bet you want to see it now. This year I’ll make sure to photograph the 5 brave Iris flowers that have decided to bloom. I think it will help their self-esteem and encourage more to follow suit.