Its Simple Beauty Keeps Me In Line

The plumeria greets everyone who comes to my house.

Sometimes I have this strange capacity to take myself too seriously. Fortunately, every day I look out the window, where I sit typing away on my computer and I see the splendor of nature. Twice a year the plumeria tree that guards my front door fills its branches with blossoms saturated with the fragrance of heaven. During these two stretches of time, whenever I leave or return home I am compelled to place my nostrils close to these flowers and inhale the aroma that soothes my soul. In this fashion I can easily turn away from thoughts of contemptuous laws that allow southern gentlemen, no longer able to lynch those they despise because of their difference in sound and appearance, to kill the same in the name of self defense.

My plumeria shows not the slightest interest or concern about the teenagers and young adults wearing hoodies that pass on the street or sidewalk. While the white petals congregate around a yellow center, the plant does not demonstrate any preference for those with peach, almond, olive, cinnamon, or chocolate colored skin. Nor does it seem to care whether the hooded individual is carrying a skateboard or favors a zip-up from Abercrombie over a Billabong pullover.

The aroma of its flowers is intoxicating.

During the fifteen years I’ve walked past the tree, it never once asked me for any form of documentation. It has probably witnessed hundreds, if not thousands, of groundskeepers, landscapers, tree trimmers, cement layers, house painters, electricians, plumbers, roofers, and solicitors speaking with various accents and in different languages, not all of which are English or Spanish, and again, failed to seek proof of anyone’s citizenship. My guess is laying all of its fallen leaves end to end is more likely to provide a path to citizenship for those hard working souls than a bunch of pandering politicians in Washington.

Confident in its stature among the plant world, the plumeria never gives the cost of tuition, student loan rates or the size of the national debt a second thought. No concern over the conversations the birds carry on or whether they’re worthy of a drone or any other tactic Big Brother does in the name of security. Without the slightest regard for what Mr. Jefferson wrote twelve score years ago or what the latest interpretation of what his contemporaries meant when they put forth the Constitution, it stands a true symbol of freedom and liberty.

Enjoying a satirical moment together.

So, whenever I get the sense or nonsense to take myself seriously, I just look out my window at the beautiful plumeria and smile. Safe in the knowledge the pen is mightier than the sword, or the modern version: the pixel is more powerful than the handgun; I feel no compulsion to stand my ground. Those yellow and white flowers will keep me in line.