The power of a plant. Winding around the brick wall the ivy fastens itself to the mortar as if for dear life, puncturing wounds into the walls it calls on for it’s survival. The concept of patience and waiting appears not to surface in the ivy’s mission to simultaneously destroy that which it clings to in order to live. But both do survive.
The strength of a plant perplexes the most rigid of minds, as a tree digs deeply its roots to support a mammoth structure that one must cut down in order to tip the hand that sowed it–vulnerable only to the elements and those whose passion it is to own it.
Even plants war for space, vying for their own species sake, the right to a survival one instinctually knows their mere presence proves. Strangling its neighbor, the weaker of the two succumbs–or so one might think. But alas, in nature there emerges a built in blueprint for peaceful coexistence as the strangler wraps its arms around the one it chooses to thrive by, checking its growth to make room for its own, while remaining codependent now, living side by side entangled in each others existence.
To the outsider matters look bleak, but to the plants: the strangler and the strangled; they see it differently. They both survive stronger than before. Even with plants, thought the weakest, next to a stone, we witness the struggle and the solution at once.
So, why don’t we humans pattern our solutions for cohabitation after the plant? Too frivolous a thought, one presumes. A mindless plant gives the solution? Nah. But yes, at the same time.