Growing in Low Light

Last night I went to my favorite fish store in Providence, its a little shop near a few coffee shops. They have wonderful plants and a wide selection of fish. I wandered through the small and overly filled store gazing wide eyed into tanks looking for prized finds.

You see I have a 56 gallon corner unit tank. The cost of good lighting for the tank is 200-400 dollars, and so at the time unattainable for me.

Recently there was a bout of death in my family, both in fish and in flesh. It’s at times like these that I turn to the things that grow. Often we don’t have enough light for things that need that spotlight to grow in, so I look for the things that grow strong, and steady in the shade. Last nights purchase was of several plants, two of which turn a purplish color, one of which floats and reminds me of grass that grows upside down. I also purchased moss for it has the knack of finding a way to grow and spread eating away at the nitrites and flourishing on anything that it can cling to. For good measure I also purchased 3 ghost shrimp, handy little critters that find that which ought not be, disappear. The tank has become a place of meditation. I watch as the fish of same type flock together and the curious angel fish swim proudly inspecting everything as if to see if it measures up, or if it is food. Things in the tank balance each other. When too much of any one item is placed things become unbalanced and death occurs, leaving me with the question the toilet for the dead or the garbage disposal, either way the dead that I see is removed, but sometimes a dead fish is left unnoticed in the tank. In time it decays, is partially eaten, and potentially can cause disease in the tank of contemplation. Ammonia levels rise and what has been unnoticed poisons us slowly. Left unexamined balance is thrown off, and further loss is to be expected. Closely watched, observed and action taken when needed the tank remains a place of growth and harmony.

Two weeks ago I did a partial water change, just five gallons of water to the tank and an unknown poison was released into the tank. I had taken all the usual actions that is needed for such a transition, and yet still I was shocked the next morning to see half of my fish had died. I treated the water again with de-chlorinator and the surviving fish pulled through. Many were left without their mates, and cousins. It was an unexpected loss, and grief was felt unexpected. In fear that their may still be unknown dead bodies in the tank I turn to the things that take that which is lost and change them from poison to food for growth. The plants and shrimp will use what remains unknown in the tank for nutrients and in turn grow stronger, returning stability to the tank.

Loss is always unexpected and it usually comes from sources that we once thought safe, that we see touch feel and experience everyday without so much as a second thought until they are gone, or turn poisonous on us. We are left with emotions we are aware of and dead fish concealed from our eyes. Sometimes we need others to help us spot out the decaying elements of life, other times we must learn to take the nutrients of the loss and grow from them.

The life in the tank is ever changing. Things come in, and at times things find their way to the garbage disposal. What I take from the tank is not as important as to what I put into it, and learn from it.