It’s been a year since I abandoned this plant.
I can’t believe I even have a photo of it. I had no idea this would be relevant a year down the line, much less... well, ever again, really.
Let me take you back.
I bought this lil’ fella at Meijer grocery store for a whopping three dollars. I intended it to be vaguely “something I grew with” while in person with my Reveal Risk team in Indiana last summer, learning on the ground with practitioners.
It’s always good to have plants in your home, even when temporary, and three dollars was an affordable investment. If you’d asked me then, I would have told you I liked the circular leaves and the way it bobbled a little when moved. I liked it because it was cheap and because plants are a great way of parallelling your own growth alongside something green and changing. I liked it because I felt like I was rescuing it from certain grocery-store related death.
But as you already know, it’s been a year since I abandoned it.
And like I said, I can’t believe I have even one picture of it; but I have at least three. Look:
This one I took mid-way through my in-person time, with the Carmel sun streaming in my windows before I bounced my way to the office.
I wish I had written more during that time with my team.
I felt so valued, so busy, and like I understood our team more than I had before. At a small company with intricate service offerings, real-time learning and hallway conversations were gateways into better understanding what we do and why. As a marketer, finding ways to communicate the depth of my team's cybersecurity knowledge has continued to be valuable and inspiring. This was of course the core goal in being in person. I was getting to know how my team worked, how I worked, and how I could support us... while this plant (and my mini disco ball, a must have) soaked up the rays in my apartment.
When I packed up from my in-person stint, though, this plant was not high on my priority list. It was still little; it had plenty of room in the pot and my watering had been fairly regular. I cared for it and was pleased to have extended its life for three months beyond what I felt Meijer was capable of.
Surprisingly, it made it into a third photo, when I headed to the office for my final day before heading home:
I left the plant in the collective care of “the office” which in most circumstances, and in my own mind, meant I was leaving it up to fate. And as you likely would have predicted, I felt confident that inconsistent office-window placement and no single responsible caretaker meant I was likely leading this little green item to its death.
Imagine my intense surprise, and ballooning gratitude, in discovering it was alive and thriving.
It was last month, and I was again in town for our Team Week. I love team week; it’s an opportunity for me to personally reconnect with folks, hear how people are really doing, and check back in with a lot of micro conversations that don’t make it online. Ideas are generated, new services outlined, and plans made for the upcoming months. And now Carmel holds a particularly dear spot in my heart.
I rolled my suitcase into the office, smiling along with my coworkers Jim and Chris who'd just shared the uber ride with me. Christy, Team Week MC and office organizer beyond compare, had swag bags ready, snacks labelled and artistically presented, and whispered to me that she remembered I liked mini cucumbers so there were some in the fridge. Talk about a warm welcome.
And then I caught Eugene between meetings.
“Your plant is alive,” he deadpanned.
“What plant?!” I demanded, and moments later, was astounded to see him present my old plant friend, abandoned a full year ago without much thought. It was in the same pot but twice as big, stems thicker and leaves filled out.
My eyes watering (I hope Eugene didn’t see), I felt a surge of gratitude, for this plant, for my coworkers, for the opportunities Reveal Risk has repeatedly provided me.
(But wait, gratitude in a moment; the plant story wasn’t over.)
When I examined it, I remarked not only on how surprised I was, and grateful for Eugene’s watering, but that it was root-bound and needed repotting.
The very next day, Eugene arrived with a new, perfectly one-size-up pot filled part way with fresh soil. The repotting took place in the office sink:
And I was thrilled to parade it around to the rest of the office immediately where I happily interrupted Eugene (again):
Writing this blog now has me reflecting on all sorts of intersections and all types of growth. I continue to be extremely proud to be part of the team at Reveal Risk. My coworkers are hard-working, diligent, accomplished cybersecurity practitioners who care deeply about their work, their team, and keeping things alive. The proof is in the plant pot.
And boy, growth happens in odd ways, at odd times.
We find ourselves stagnant one moment and then in a vortex of accelerated development the next. Consulting work exacerbates this; times are too busy and then slow suddenly, just to pick up with voracity moments later. Circumstances move us but so do internal forces; sometimes we realize we’re ready, sometimes we fight the constraints or scarcity of resources. Sometimes we flourish with such grace and natural flow our growth appears effortless, while in reality the experience may be forced, and squeezed, and uncomfortable. It’s only afterwards we realize we have, in fact, grown six inches.
But the real takeaway does actually feel a bit more simple.
Growth, it turns out, requires support.
I’m extremely lucky to witness growth and support every day amongst this team. It’s how we stay relevant as cyber practitioners; it’s how we prop each other up on complicated projects. It’s our leadership and managers finding ways to provide growth opportunities. And it’s, sometimes, watering someone else’s plant just because it’s good to help things grow.
It’s only upon writing this that I realize I put the plant in Todd’s office and didn’t tell him, though.
Related content.
