I've always been amazed by the tenacity of nature and the natural world. It doesn't matter what you throw at it, it always seems to bounce back — unless, of course, us humans have really mucked things up for it, which unfortunately has been the case far too often. But in general, nature is one tough son of a bitch.
I was out walking the other day, as I love to do, and as I cut across the parking lot of a local church, I noticed a single dandelion plant sprouting up in the middle of an expanse of concrete and asphalt. Just a single yellow bloom in a sea of faded black. How does that even happen?
I walked up to it and squatted down to get a closer look. The dandelion had taken root in the tiniest of cracks in the driveway — probably no bigger than half the nail on my pinky finger. And in that space, it managed to push its way through the soil and establish enough of a root system to bloom. Amazing! Think about that for a minute. Really take a minute and think about how amazing that is. I'll wait right here.
That little dandelion — hated by many a green-lawn enthusiast — refused to give up or give in, despite conditions that were less than ideal. It took the space it could find, made the best of it, and blossomed. How many cars drove over it, or people walked by, not even paying that little flower the slightest bit of attention.
But those are precisely the efforts that we should be championing. Those flowers or weeds or people that somehow have the 'nerve' to blossom when we've done everything in our power to discourage it. We don't want that single dandelion messing up the uniformity of our green lawns, and we sure as heck don't want a flower growing smack dab in the middle of two tonnes of asphalt.
Yet they do. All the time. And this gives me such great hope and encouragement. We all have barriers in front of us. While some are societal and some are other external factors, I would argue that the highest fences and the thickest walls we build are internal, and we put them there to protect ourselves. We do it out of fear mostly, I think — the fear of failure, the fear of ridicule, the fear of not fitting in.
The thought of being that bright yellow splash in the middle of a grey expanse terrifies most people. The thought of getting up to dance your ass off without a bellyful of 'liquid courage' is real. The thought of being someone who stands out from the crowd is not on the top of everyone's to-do list.
But it should be.
You should want to be that yellow splash or that hurricane on the dance floor at any time of the day or night. The freedom that happens when you just let go of your fears and inhibitions is immeasurable. Once you open your petals and let the sunshine in, you soak it up and it radiates to others in the way you express yourself — in the way you smile, the way you walk, and the way you treat other people.
But here's what the grass doesn't realize. It takes a lot of work to stay green. You have to get fertilized. You need to get cut on a regular basis, and when you don't get enough water, you stop growing and turn a baby-poop brown. And you get crusty. Real crusty.
Dandelions don't need any of that shit. They just grow and grow and grow. They are zero maintenance. Seriously. Even if you try and snip a dandelion off with the lawnmower, that damn flower is upright and shining tall within hours.
So what does all this mean? It means it takes more time, energy, and valuable resources to be a member of the 'crowd' or to blend in with the masses than it does to be your freaking glorious individual crazy-ass self. Don't believe me? Go back through my scientifically based rationale. Science never lies.
Just think of the energy you would have if you just didn't give a shit about what other people thought. Man, you'd never need that liquid courage again because you'd be brimming with sunshine and dancing all the time.
I've always tried to be the flower. Sometimes I'm a piece of grass, but I've found that being a piece of grass makes me miserable, crusty, and worn out — and that's not the type of life I want to live. When I do my best to live my most flower life, I begin to see other flowers like me hiding amongst the grass. They haven't quite found enough courage to push through yet, but they are there, and they are just itching to bloom. I see you and I'm waiting for you.
It is so much fun being a flower. You don't have to be some exotic bloomer or a rare tropical 'Ghost Orchid' that commands attention. You can be a daffodil or a buttercup and go about your day minding your own business just blooming away.
Or you can be a dandelion — the kind of bloomer that ticks people off because you spread your sunshine so easily. Just a puff of wind, really, and all hell breaks loose, and before they know it, you've infected their once uniform and pristine world with a whole bunch of sunshine. Dandelions are buggers to get rid of. They're rebels. And that's the whole point. Dandelions are my kind of bloomers.
I love this quote by Henri Matisse: "There are always flowers for those who want to see them."
Isn't that the truth? If we look around, we can see flowers everywhere. They may not be traditional, they may not be in our favourite colours, and they may even be growing outside of the box we built for them to grow in. But that's okay. Those flowers are where they need to be, and they are blooming their little hearts out.
I think the crux of this quote comes in the idea that more often than not, it is us who struggle to see the flowers inside of ourselves. We're okay at seeing them in other people and appreciating them there, but not so good at recognizing that hidden bloom in ourselves.
So that's the challenge I leave you with this week. Look for the flowers. Look for them growing in the impossible spaces and appreciate them for their strength, their beauty, and their resilience. Then look inside yourself and repeat.