100% Within My Rights
Proof that mother-in-law’s tongue is not a real plant: When we put up the Christmas tree, as we are considering doing early this year, I always move any real plants nearby, because it’s a fake tree, and real plants look both anemic and authentic next to it—I won’t say like a democrat standing near Mitch McConnell, but like that. He’s congratulating republicans who won races based on the same ballots he’s implying are questionable when it comes to Biden’s victory. The Arboricola, leggy even in the best of times, will move to the dining room, where it will further languish under the low light.
This is not Mitch McConnell with a leggy Democrat in the background.
Maybe it doesn’t matter what remains near the tree. Probably no one but Dave and me will be close enough to examine it all season, even if the Pfizer vaccine is as effective as it sounds. But I am trying to drop down and ask myself more. I’m trying, in my morning pages, to connect with “the knowing,” as Glennon Doyle calls it. Heather read her book Untamed in one sitting. I’m skimming some parts, committing others to memory. I find myself wary of other people’s miracles. Cautious of losing my own sense of self in Doyle’s boldly drawn pictures, but also hungry for instructions on how to live. “Breathe, turn inward, sink.”
The Dracaena Trifasciata, commonly called a mother-in-law’s tongue or snake plant, sends tall spikes straight up from the narrow pot. Whether I water it or not, the leaves stay deep green. They are tough as plastic, and resist when I try to snip one for getting too tall or straying from the straight-up direction. The few places near the base where I’ve removed leaves look like wounds.
This plant will continue to sit on Dad’s old speaker when the tree is up, and it won’t look odd. The eye won’t register that a fake plant—the tree, is right next to a real plant—the mother-in-law’s tongue, and that the disconnect is aesthetically unpleasing. Some real things look fake, and maybe that is their superpower. Some fake things look real, like a political operative masquerading as a public servant, and maybe that is their superpower too.
Until this moment, I have not really appreciated the magnitude of the problem of misdirection. Big lies are easier to spot and avoid. Mitch has not repeated Trump’s extreme lie that the election was “stolen.” He has only said Trump is “100 percent within his rights to look to allegations of irregularities and weigh his legal options.” True enough. I mean, we’re all 100 percent within those rights at all times, aren’t we?
At Trader Joe’s, for instance, I’m within my rights to weigh my legal options about whether I need to pay for my groceries. Why exactly are the taxes calculated for each category the way they are? Why is the liquor tax higher than the produce tax?
And what is my recourse if I don’t agree? I could stand there for hours, consulting legal books I happen to have brought with me, hiring lawyers and talking to them on the phone from my place at the counter. At what point does the store have the right to remove me and void my order, so customers behind me can check out and get back to their lives?
And because I’m always thinking about myself, what does this do to me, learning that I have the power to disrupt the running of this entire store? What does it do to my soul, testing my ability to interrupt the lives of the people behind me, to undermine the friendly Trader Joe’s brand? How gratifying would it be to potentially influence others to step up and protest the price and tax of each product?
Just by weighing my legal options, I could control the day of so many people, maybe even some whole lives! Like, what if the person behind me is running late for a job interview, and my weighing of my options causes them to miss it?
It’s a very powerful feeling. My very own miracle. I could get used to it.