The Many Filaments of an Orange Flower
I was totally mesmerized by all these filaments of an orange flower. Looking so intimately into the flora world reveals such a beautiful dimension that you just don’t get to see anywhere else.
These filament reminds me of little children. They might all look the same and yet every one of them is unique. The problem is through the filters of social conditioning, all of them are expected to be the same. For some reason, there is a standard. How far you deviate from the standard is how different you are from the norm. For better or worse, some will be judged as slower, clumsier, stupid, intelligent or geniuses.
It wasn’t too long ago when no child was categorized as being autistic or asperger or the many types of autism in-between. Nobody also realize that there are introverts and extroverts. Today it seems like every child have a problem if they are not the norm. The more we divide and dissect, the more we discover that at the lowest denominator, there is only the individual. Everyone is unique. Nothing in life and nature is created the same, only the mind seek sameness because it is comforting. What true value can you give another if he or she is exactly the same as you?
The irony is people like people who are like them. Not only that, people make others be like them so that they can accepted into their circle. A group of sheep doing the same thing, eating the same grass. What is the value in that? At least a hungry lion poses a threat and challenges the sheep to come alive, to be more aware, simply because the lion is different. The group of sheep is only as ignorant as their peers in thinking that there is safety by being the same as each other. No sheep can save the other if they think that every creature outside the circle should all be sheep.
It is a strange world we live in. So much contradictions.
We want to be different and yet we try to be the same.
It seems like a rare thing to just let the child be. We want to mould them into everything except themselves. It is difficult to let the child have his or her own voice. It seems like we know better and yet most people are miserable. We just don’t admit that we have no idea what we are doing with our lives either.
The most compassionate thing we can do for the child is to let them blossom in their own way, in their own time.
We can admire the flower, take in their fragrance, but if we pick any part of the plant, we may have just destroyed it unknowingly.