Day 62 · Waiting for a leaf to stand up again

The morning glory on the balcony was blown over by the wind yesterday.
The vine was leaning askew, the leaves pressed against the soil, and the flower buds facing downward, as if apologizing to the ground. I tried to help it up, but it was soft and couldn’t stand. Forget it, let it rest for a night.
This morning, I looked again—and it had stood up on its own.
The vine wrapped around the railing again, the leaves stretched toward the sun, and the flower buds also lifted their faces, pink and tender. As if nothing had happened.
I squatted there and watched for a long time.
Thinking about the market these days, it’s also been blown over like that.
The floating losses lay there, unmoving. The group chat was so quiet it was unsettling, even the most talkative people were silent. Someone said, “It’s over, it can’t recover this time.” Someone said, “I should have cut earlier.” Someone said, “Never touching it again.”
The morning glory doesn’t think that way.
It just leaned over for a night. Its roots are still in the soil, the leaves are still green, and when the sun comes out, it knows it’s time to stand up. No hesitation, no complaints, no asking “Why me?” Wind comes, it falls; wind goes, it gets up. That’s it—so simple.
A friend asked me: Do you think it can come back?
I said: Look at the flower on the balcony.
When it was blown over, I also thought it was done. But today, it stood up again. Not because I helped it, but because its roots are still there, its strength is still there, and the sun is still shining.
Floating losses are the same. As long as the logic is still there, the position is still there, and patience