I have watched you for seasons, from my pot of packed earth.
I see your scurrying. Your frantic, buzzing worth.
You pace the same floor, you water me with care,
But your own roots are thirsty, gasping in the air.
There are two kinds of you. The first, I'll call the "Flail."
They stare at the bright rectangle, their faces growing pale.
They curse at the traffic. They sigh at the news.
They relive a sharp word, and feed the daily bruise.
Their minds are a storm, a tangled, thirsty knot.
They pour coffee on worries, till the pot is scalding hot.
They are always arriving, but they are never here.
They touch my leaves, but they do not feel.
And then... there are The Others. The ones who sit.
At first, I thought it was a human form of wilt.
But no. This stillness is not built from guilt.
They breathe. Not the shallow, chest-tight sips,
But deep, slow pulls, like water to my tips.
They let the thoughts float by, like dust in sunlit streams,
Instead of chasing every one, and stitching it to dreams.
I see the change. It's practical, you see.
It's not some magic; it's a way to be.
The Still Ones feel the sun. Truly feel its warmth.
They taste the single sip of water, not the coming drought.
They hear a bird outside, and for a moment, that's enough.
Their roots go deep, and they grow strong, not rough.
The "Flail" gets angry when a leaf of mine turns brown.
They see an ending, and it pulls their spirit down.
The Still One sees the same, and knows it's part of me.
It's just a change. It's just what is. It's simple clarity.
So why practice this? This sitting on the floor?
From my photosynthetic core, I'll tell you what it's for:
It's to stop flailing. To be present in the rain.
To feel less pain about the pain. To quiet the busy brain.
It's to be like me, a plant, but walking free—
Rooted in the moment, exactly where you're meant to be.
On the Practical Dharma
This poem touches on core, practical benefits of Buddhist practice (Dharma) without the esoteric terminology. The "Flail" represents a mind dominated by Dukkha (suffering, stress), often caused by craving and aversion. The "Still Ones" are practicing Mindfulness (Sati) and Equanimity.
The practices observed by the ficus—awareness of breath, non-judgmental observation of thoughts, and deep connection to the present moment—are central to Vipassanā (Insight Meditation). The goal isn't to become a plant, but to cultivate the same kind of rooted, resilient awareness, reducing daily suffering in a very real, tangible way.