A co-worker came up with the title when he saw me watering my 'lucky' money plant in the sink. "Sounds like the title to a blog," I said. And so, since I'm desperately trying to think of up ideas with which to fill this blog, I stole it. Because that's how I roll.
Here's the thing about the money plant. Feng Shui dictates that one take great care of the damned thing or ill fortune might befall ones actual finances. Or at least that's the way I interpret the Feng Shui strictures about plants and lucky 'cures'. And because I superstitiously fear a direct relationship between the darned plant and my bank account, I tend it religiously.
It occurs to me that I put a lot less energy into my relationships with real live people. I don't check to see that my friendships are not drying up, or needing more sun. I don't worry about feeding or trimming my communications with my relatives, who live far away. In other words, I'm more worried about my so-called luck than I am about my real life.
Now when I look at the plant I feel guilty. How is that supposed to help anything?
But I can't get rid of it. Geez, I can't even imagine what would happen to me if I threw it away. Or gave it away. Or let it die. Lets face it, the plant owns me.