"Yet in the dew of little things, the heart finds its morning and is refreshed." - Kahlil Gibran
2005 01 06
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I wonder what it was that made me begin to disparage the rose. I felt them boring, imagineless, getting them as a gift was the gift of someone who hadn't put real thought into getting you something. They were so common they felt like a stopgap, like someone who gives you a gift certificate not because they want you to have what you really want, but because they were too lazy to do otherwise.
Once I got roses for my birthday, and I went straight up the road to the hospital and gave them away. I was offended, and hurt. For some reason I was even outraged.
Then, then there was the dozen red roses that arrived with my favourite Shakespearean sonnet attached. I was freaked out - really freaked out. I had no idea what to do, how to react. I said no, and he's probably glad I did, since I believe he's now found the love of his life; re-found her, since he loved her years ago but lost touch with her.
Sometimes I crave flowers, but never the rose. Sometimes I'd like some lillies, or gladiolus, or anything purple. Sometimes I want their simple beauty. Something so delicate, yet with such strength - to outlive the wind and the other elements that batter them. It reminds me of Buddhists who say that the strongest things are those that yield.
My home has nothing living except myself and the odd fruit fly. There is no pet here, no plant, and sometimes that gap opens wide and looks lonely.
I think I need something living to keep me company.
. . .
I had myself convinced at one point that the reason I didn't like roses was that they were common - like yellow gold and diamonds, two other things I never want.
I think my taste for the unusual may have blinded me to the beauty of the common. I never used to be that with anything. I appreciated the charm of all things - of the sound of wind in the trees, the shapes of clouds, a lion on the kill, a puddle of gasoline with its rainbow hue and pungent scent.
I still appreciate the odd, and the simple, but perhaps it's time to reevaluate how.