Roots of Adaptability
What a Russian sage taught me about letting go, thriving through change, and the unseen force that sets us free
I love Russian sage. It’s low-maintenance, drought-tolerant, and perfect for a high desert yard where deer often wander. I also adore its vibrant violet flower stalks, which bloom in the heat of summer. I planted one years ago and quickly noticed how it spreads like bamboo—sending up new shoots each year.
This season, we decided to transplant some of those shoots to other parts of the yard. The task was simple: dig up the abundant new shoots and replant them.
Some shoots looked healthy—tall stems, lush green leaves. Others were smaller, even fragile-looking. The next day, I eagerly checked the garden. To my surprise, the robust-looking shoots from the day before were now drooping—some even looked dead. Yet the smaller, more delicate ones had perked up, standing tall in the summer sun.
Apparently, what I saw on the surface wasn’t what mattered most.
It’s the unseen—the messy, muddy roots—that determine whether a plant will thrive or wither. As it turns out, the larger the shoot, the more extensive a root system it needs to survive a transplant. Smaller shoots, by contrast, require far less root mass to adapt to new soil.
I can’t help but wonder—aren’t people the same when it comes to change?
What kind of “roots” do we need in order to thrive in new environments? How do we stay grounded when life moves us—literally or metaphorically—from one place to another, whether by choice or circumstance?
I believe one of the key adaptation skills is the capacity to let go—of both tangible and intangible attachments. Letting go of appearances, of the past, of the familiar. Life offers us exciting adventures, but only if we can release the known and embrace the unknown, adapting—physically, emotionally, and mentally—to new soil.
Yet letting go is uncomfortable, even painful. The more we accumulate—identities, achievements, possessions, lifestyles—the harder it becomes. We tell ourselves we need these things for safety or identity. Yet often, the very things we cling to are what prevent us from thriving in the life that lies ahead.
Maybe cultivating the strength to let go is what truly enables us to adapt, to thrive, and to live fully amid life’s inevitable changes. Especially when we come to the final change—when it’s time to leave this world altogether.
