Do you ever look at your orchid and feel that you belong together? That may sound a bit floaty, but it's an experience that a surprising number of people recognize. The plants we choose, care for, admire or sometimes even lose often reflect something of ourselves. In this blog, we dive into the philosophical side of our bond with orchids - and why these very plants sometimes reveal more about us than we realize.
Origins of connection
The relationship between humans and plants is ancient. In many cultures, plants were seen as symbols of human attributes. Think of the lotus for purity, the oak for strength or the rose for love. The orchid was given different meanings in different times and places: beauty, rarity, mystery - or even eroticism. But beyond that symbolism, something deeper is at play. Something you may notice yourself: certain plants just feel like an extension of yourself. You choose them for a reason. You choose them because they touch you - aesthetically, emotionally or even subconsciously.
Projecting a piece of yourself into your plant
You choose a plant. But what if that plant also "chooses" something of you? Not literally, of course, but in the way you see it. Maybe you like a sleek, white Phalaenopsis because you seek tranquility in your life. Or you might be attracted to a rare, almost otherworldly-looking orchid such as a Paphiopedilum, because you think outside the box yourself. Your preference says something about your character, your mood, your aesthetic - but also about how you like to see yourself.
We project emotions onto our plants. A slow grower can frustrate you if you are impatient yourself. A plant that suddenly blossoms when you thought it was "dead" can give you hope during a difficult time. And a sick or decaying plant can unexpectedly trigger something: sadness, guilt, or just resignation. It touches you, because somewhere you feel that it is also about you.
The sick plant and our vulnerability
Why does it sometimes touch us so deeply when a plant looks bad? Perhaps because we see - consciously or unconsciously - that we ourselves are also vulnerable. Plants get sick from too little light, too much water, stress, an imbalance. Just as you can get out of balance from work pressure, loneliness, or loss. A sick orchid sometimes confronts you with your own fatigue, your own cracks that you'd rather not show. But it also reminds you of recovery: that stagnation is not the same as giving up. And that care - for yourself and for another - requires time, attention and gentleness.
What does your favorite orchid say about you?
Maybe you have a fondness for miniature orchids. Maybe especially for large-flowered hybrids. Or maybe you collect only natural varieties because you love the purity of evolution. Each of these preferences says something about you. About your personality, your attitude to life, or your way of looking at things.
Do you choose orchids with complex blooms? Perhaps you seek challenge and layering.
Do you prefer easy flowering varieties? Then perhaps you value regularity, certainty, or "peace and quiet at home.
Do you fall for rare species that are hard to come by? Then perhaps you feel rare yourself - or long for something unique in a world full of masses.
There is no right or wrong. Only a mirror. And sometimes you discover more about yourself just by taking a good look at your orchid.
Plants as silent allies
In a world that is often fast, loud and overwhelming, caring for plants offers something special. It is slow, attentive, sensory. And it invites you to dwell - not only on the life of the plant, but also on your own.
So when you walk past your orchid again soon, look with different eyes. Not just, "How are you doing?" But also, "What does your growth, your peace, your blooming - say about me?"
