The Leaf I Couldn’t Save...

I have a money plant. It sits by my window quietly, observing, taking in life around. 

Every morning, I greet it like an old friend. I touch its leaves, caress its shoots. It was doing well, and being cared for but,

One day, a single leaf began to dry halfway. It wasn’t fully gone, just weary. I whispered to it, prayed for it, sent it little waves of healing energy. For a day or two, it responded. It lifted its head again, and I thought, 'She’s coming back.'
But by the third day, she drooped lower than before.

Beside her, two new shoots were growing, tender, green, full of will. Yet my eyes stayed fixed on the fading one. I kept pouring love into her, as if my care could reverse her destiny.

And then I realised.

This leaf did not want to live.

It wasn’t neglect. It wasn’t a lack of love. It was simply time. Perhaps her journey with the plant had ended. And all my effort, all my prayers, all my need to heal were trying to rewrite a path that was never mine to change.

When she finally fell, she didn’t drop easily. She pulled on the others as she left, bending them down with her, as if she didn’t want to go alone. Four leaves held her up, but still, she refused to rise.

And in that moment, I understood something profound:
Will cannot be given.
Not to a leaf, not to a person, not to a soul.

You cannot breathe life into something that no longer wishes to live. You cannot force transformation, or healing, or awakening. The inner fire must choose to burn. It can be inspired, yes. But never implanted.

We often wish to be the reason for someone’s change. But that is never our role. We don’t know their timing, their karma, their private unfolding. We are too small to decide such things, even for ourselves.

With a quiet ache, I plucked the leaf and placed her gently on the soil.
And the next morning, three new shoots had emerged! Bright and alive.

While my love was fixed on what was fading, life had been weaving new beginnings in silence.
Because life never wastes energy. It only redirects it, toward what is ready to receive.

The dying leaf had tried. She had given her all. My prayers hadn’t failed; they had simply found new homes, in the ones ready to grow.

And so, I learned:
Will and want must meet inside.
Want can be inspired by others.
But will must rise from within.

No teacher, no healer, no lover can walk the path for another. We can only walk beside them, offering presence, not rescue; compassion, not control.

The leaf taught me that love’s true power is not in fixing, or saving but in simple witnessing, in awareness.

And you cannot carry others weaknesses, or determine their life - you can heal, and love, but the timing is their alone to bloom.