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Flowers in Concrete; Nature's Underdogs.

Jun 9

2 min read

4

53



I have envied nature for its ability to rejoice in beautiful Washington summer. Awaiting the arrival of longed-for long summer days, it stands mightily prepared to bloom. After all, it has endured the gloomy rainy days better than any of its residents. But I'm afraid, it is mocking my inability to feel the same respite.


As if, among these trees and flowers, I happen to be an unlikely phenomenon.


Yet I force myself to go out, in hopes of feeling different, and to shake off the melancholy, so I can become a breath of fresh air myself. On one particular walk I took, revolting the audacity of the trees around me, I was too ashamed to look ahead. With the tears rolling down my cheeks, it was best to keep my chin tucked, and not meet strangers in the eyes for a superficial nod and talks about how beautiful this weather was. 


And in my conviction to keep my head down, as I continued to rub my eyes to avoid a blurry vision, I saw a dainty flower grow on the sidewalk, through the cracks of the concrete. As I encountered the first flower I could ever relate to, I let go of my breath, and relaxed, acknowledging a phenomenon like myself. It was a respectful encounter. As if, this "Flower in concrete" met me where I was, and showed me "Oh we sure do exist." Walking with my head low wasn't that bad after all. In those limited horizons of my shortsightedness, I meet nature's underdogs and face my resilience. As I surrender to my smallness, not forcing myself tall, I catch these flowers here and there in the most unlikely places. And thus I find strength, feeling the same power of nature within me. The power of intention, and commitment to survive, thrive, and evolve, is inherent in all of us.


"Flowers in concrete" are almost always found alone, to be appreciated by the human flowers who have grown in concrete themselves. And you can't see the roots of such flowers, nor can you sense how far deep they grow. The rocks not conducive to their birth are the rocks that protect them. They may exist alone, but weeds don't grow around them either. There's no tending to their soil, there's no watering to their roots. No caretakers, but nature itself. You can step on them, pluck them, question their existence but they grow back again. And you'd never know how often they come back to bloom, over and over, they may have more life left in them than anyone can imagine. I wish to tell these flowers, that they inspire me. While the carefully cared for flowers of well-manicured gardens have always left me feeling unwanted, the flowers in concrete show me my journey is different.


In the unwanted, unlikely realms of existence, where my rock bottoms protect me, I yet bloom again. I wish I knew how deep my roots grow, so I know if I am stepped on or plucked, I can still grow again. 

Jun 9

2 min read

4

53

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