To Live and Die Like the Night Blooming Cereus 

When Craig and I traveled, we always found a botanical garden to visit. Plants were one of Criag’s passions. He was a fantastic gardener. To Craig’s delight, while visiting a garden in Florida, we discovered a Night Blooming Cereus. Being daytime, it wasn’t blooming, but the plant was still quite spectacular. As if we were in the presence of royalty, this beautiful plant commanded the space where it hung. We couldn’t help but stare in awe.

Our home in Colorado, the one that love built, had many windows with a southeast exposure, perfect for plants. Naturally, Craig filled the space with luscious tropical and exotic plant life. The windowsills were lined with geraniums, jades, and begonias; a large snake plant stood guard near the door to the patio. We had spider plants and philodendrons hanging from the ceiling. The plants created a lush environment, like a small botanical garden, which created its own microclimate where we lived in the high desert Uncompahgre Plateau of Western Colorado.

Smuggling a Clipping

During that visit to the botanical garden where the majestic cereus was hanging, unbeknownst to me, Craig slyly made off with a small clipping and smuggled it back home. He crafted a small pot to hang the cutting, planted it, and nourished his sweet prize. It didn’t take long before she grew into another spectacular plant, much like her mother.

So, what made this particular plant so special? Well, true to its name, it bloomed only at night. This particular cereus bloomed once a year, right around the Summer Solstice, which was right around our wedding anniversary. She didn’t usually bloom until just before midnight. We would have missed it all, except for the bloom remnants the following day.

But we didn’t. 

Why? Our entire home was filled with her scent when she bloomed, an aroma which was slightly sweet and very hypnotic. The fragrance always woke us up. We climbed out of our bed, drawn to her elusive resplendence. We sat in awe during the wee hours and observed her exquisite fragrance and beauty—something to behold.

Spectacular Exit Strategy

As if she knew we would soon be leaving her, the last time she bloomed was just a few weeks before we moved to the East Coast. This last time was her most spectacular. Like the last round of fireworks on the Fourth of July, she saved her best for her last performance. There were more blooms than we’d ever seen, and she kept blooming for four nights. 

Then, without further fanfare, she died. Rest in peace, dear sweet Night Blooming Cereus. Thanks for bringing such grace and beauty into our lives.

I want to live in the same splendor our cereus did. I want to live these moments here and now immersed in life, love, and the beauty surrounding me. I want to bloom into the Divine Human I was born to be. 

And when it’s time, I want to go out with the same flare as the dazzling Night Blooming Cereus. Ablaze with blooms and lighting up the sky as I fly free.

Death is our greatest challenge as well as our greatest spiritual opportunity. By cultivating mindfulness, we can prepare ourselves for this final passage by allowing nature, rather than Ego, to guide us.

Ram Dass