Help! The lucky bamboo is dead!
My dad has been growing bamboo in our backyard for as long as I can remember. It’s the kind of plant—ahem—grass —that most other people shun. They cut it down and complain to the homeowner’s association of its encroaching roots. Vile weed! Luckily for my dad, he lives in a neighborhood that doesn’t have an association.
Properties of bamboo:
Bamboo is the fastest growing land-plant in the world. The only thing that grows quicker is giant sea kelp.
Clumping bamboo purifies the air up to 30% more effectively than any other plant. Walking through a bamboo forest, high on all that extra oxygen, can help relieve tension and headaches and make you feel happier.
Thomas Edison used a carbonized bamboo filament in his very first successful light bulb.
Bamboo is not flammable, but does make a loud popping sound in a fire due to the air pockets that exist between nodes. The very first fire crackers made in China were created out of bamboo.
Snakes don't like bamboo. Snakes like to curl up in warm, silent places. Bamboo mulch is both too loud and too cold (due to the air purification). Furthermore, the stems are too slippery to climb.
With all these good-for-you properties, why would anyone NOT want a few stalks of lucky bamboo?
Turns out lucky bamboo isn’t bamboo at all. All those properties I just told you about? Forget about them. They don’t apply to lucky bamboo. I feel like I’ve been duped. Lucky bamboo is actually part of the plant species called dracaena sanderiana, native to Africa, not China. It’s popular because of its ability to grow in low light. Textbooks also describe dracaena as “tenacious” and “difficult to destroy.” And there you have it— the magic properties that somehow linked real bamboo with the lucky kind.
The other day, we were cleaning out the coffee shop, getting the last of everything out so it would be ready for our final walk-through with the landlord. On the counter where the coffee grinders and espresso machines used to sit was a bottle that houses our single stalk of lucky bamboo. I noticed two weeks ago that the top was beginning to turn yellow, and then yesterday, as we cleared out the last remnants of what was left of Copper Coin, I discovered the bamboo was brown all the way down.
It died.
And I’m not superstitious, but I am a little bit stitious.
Isn’t it weird that our one tangible symbol of wealth and prosperity died just as our real-life dream keeled over too?
This single stalk lucky bamboo, which had been thriving on our barista counter for more than a year (some employees testified it had been there for several years), is now totally defunct. No one knows how we came by our lucky bamboo. Maybe another local business gave it to us? After all, lucky bamboo is a popular corporate gift because it brings with it the promise to keep the business flourishing. It is a symbol of power, strength, truth, commitment, and prosperity.
These days, I notice people looking at me with pity in their eyes. I can tell they want to ask me about the coffee shop, but don’t. I know what they’re thinking, though. “Poor thing. She just couldn’t hack it in the business world.” It’s truly as if someone has died. I think they’re afraid that if they bring up “the closing” I’ll start crying, but they’re dying to know. “What really happened?” they whisper to their friends. I think they’re hoping to avoid whatever horrible plague befell us. They want to make sure it’s not contagious.
Trust me—you can ask me about the coffee shop.
Gavin and I ended it on our terms. It was our choice. I promise I won’t cry. We tried something that we thought would be both profitable and fun, and as it turns out—it wasn’t that profitable, and it wasn’t that fun.
But I’m still glad we did it.
Right now, we’re watching a series on Netflix called The Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt, a show about a woman named Kimmy who spent fifteen years in a bunker as the kidnapped hostage of a crazed cult leader. She’s now living her best life with her gay roommate, Titus, in a sketchy area of New York City.
This conversation between Kimmy and Titus in Season 4 really got to me:
“TITUS: Hey, do you ever wonder how your life might’ve been different if you’d never gotten in that van? I mean, just one little moment, —if you—
KIMMY: No. There’s no point. I’ve been through a lot of terrible stuff that I wish had never happened. But I still have to believe that this is where I’m meant to be, because if i didn’t... ...I’d go crazy.
”
I have to believe that this is where I’m meant to be, too. In fact, it is exactly where I’m meant to be.
One stalk of lucky bamboo signifies simplicity and a meaningful life. That’s what Copper Coin showed me. My year-long coffeehouse experience showed me that what I really want, deep down, is simplicity and a meaningful life.
I read recently that people tend to define success primarily through the meaning and purpose they derive from their lives. Purpose is forward-thinking and is closely linked to goal-setting, whereas meaning is how you view your past. The dead bamboo represents my past, a past I view with enormous gratitude.
On the last day at Copper Coin, at 3:00 PM, just as we locked the doors for the very last time, the song Closing Time by Semisonic played over our speaker system. This line rings true even now: “Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end.”
And so it goes.
And so here we are…a new beginning.
P.S. I didn’t bring the lucky bamboo home. That’s some bad ju-ju right there. :)