Re-Potting My Life

Lessons From A Rubber Tree

I’ve always loved plants. They give literal life to your home by bringing nature inside - green reminders that life is happening. But if you’re new to plant parenthood, here’s an essential tip: when you bring a new plant home, you have to re-pot it. A new, supportive pot allows its roots to stretch and grow. Without that, the plant stays trapped, unable to reach its potential.

And how will you know when it’s time to re-pot? Your plant will tell you - your job is to pay attention.

I love (mostly) all plants but I have a soft spot for rubber trees, especially the Ficus Tineke. Each leaf looks like an artist hand painted it - soft strokes of green, cream, and pink, blending together like a beautiful watercolor.

Look how beautiful she is!

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In 2021, while in business school, I took a course called Understanding Careers. The purpose of the course was to map out your ideal career path. And the assignment was to interview professionals 25+ years into their careers in relevant fields. I learned a lot but my biggest takeaway was this: the most interesting careers don’t follow a clear path or a plan or a map. They happen when people embrace the randomness of opportunity - when they bet on themselves and take risks.

One interview in particular stuck with me. A successful venture capitalist told me:

“Think of yourself like a plant. You have to re-pot yourself throughout your career.”

Meaning: reinvent yourself. Take risks. Grow and see what fits. You’re not tied to one identity or one type of work. You can do many things with your life. You’re not meant to stay in the same pot forever.

I’ve turned this idea over in my mind so many times:

Who do I want to be when I grow up? What kind of work do I want to do now? Later? Is this the right fit? Is there something more? (God, I hope there’s something more.)

For a long time, I’ve felt I was in the wrong pot entirely.

I thought, perhaps, if I simply changed the color pot I was in, I would feel better. Like a new pair of shoes. The dissatisfaction fueled my jump from job to job then getting my MBA; I did end up in a fancier and slightly bigger pot. But it didn’t make me happier. And I’ve always wondered if there’s something more for me. A purpose. Not just a job, a calling.

The other day I was strolling around my neighborhood and I saw something that stopped me in my tracks:

A rubber tree.

Not in a pot.

In the ground.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This is a Ficus I saw in Argentina - Ficus Gomero de Recoleta

She was ENORMOUS, GIGANTIC - towering over the garden, taller than the brownstone behind her.

I. Was. Stunned.

And I thought to myself: What is that?? Is THAT what a rubber tree is supposed to look like?

All this time I’ve kept mine in a pot - limiting her growth. I’ve been holding her back.

And I then had revelation two:

AM I the rubber tree in this scenario?

I’ve spent my whole life trying to find the right pot. Bigger pots, fancier pots. But none of them were right. And no wonder!! I’m not supposed to be small and in a pot!

I’M SUPPOSED TO BE IN THE GROUND. I’m supposed to be GIGANTIC.

What a day. What a tree.

Many months ago, I wrote a poem inspired by the giant trees growing around me in upstate New York and I wondered how they could all grow so big and tall. This line from my poem is what I heard them say to me:

I am rooted to the ground

So my growth, it knows no bounds

As I search for my purpose and develop my own spirituality, I’ve had to confront this reality: I’ve been living, uncomfortably, my whole life in pots that weren’t meant for me. Pots handed to me by my parents, by family, by society—too small, too restrictive. And now I understand why I’ve felt so deeply unsatisfied.

And I have a sneaking suspicion I’m not alone.

What about you, dear reader? Are you in the right pot? Or have you outgrown it? Are your roots stretching, desperate for space? Or are you holding yourself back because it feels safer to stay small?

If you feel restless—if something inside you is whispering, there’s more—maybe it’s time to listen.

Maybe we can help each other.

But what to do? I’m not sure yet. That’s what I’m doing here. On this substack. I’m trying to write my way out.

What I do know is this—my calling won’t look like yours. There’s never just one way forward, never only one path out. If you’re searching for direction, start by listening - not to others - but to that quiet whisper.

So for now, I’ll leave you with this poem I wrote called Intuition, and a promise that you’re not alone:

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Intuition:

Rest

Listen

Act

Repeat

It’s in the synchronicities:

In little moments life appears.

She’ll guide you gently by the hand

Pay attention, you’ll understand;

But if your heart is closed to see

She’ll pass you by in misery.

Your path lies in the mystery;

Not black and white, it’s not so clear.

It’s somewhere hiding past your fear.

Open your heart, you’re sure to feel

Those quiet whispers inviting you “here!”

When in doubt your work is clear:

Rest

Listen

Act

Repeat

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Until next time, friends. I love you.

Love,

Natalie