The Only You the World Has

 

As usual, I am in need of some botanical education here.

These are tiny, spikey blooms that grow impossibly out of the moss-filled crevices just down by our dock. Did a quick internet search, but without any fancy aps or enough plant-science knowledge, haven't found an actual name for this. If you know, please chime in.

What attracts me to these little beauties is their boldness, their clarity, their tenacity, and their resilience. I mean, who grows out of a rock and looks that proud of it? And all while being so very, very small! I didn't include a comparison object in the picture, but those individual blooms are no more than 0.5 cm across.

I find myself encouraged in two measurements.

One is how much I miss if I am too big-sighted or too preoccupied to notice the little things. Perhaps that's obvious enough for me to just leave that there for now.

The other may be more important, only because of our human tendency to believe that bigger is better. We seem to have an almost addictive level of needing more to prove we matter. Our currency might be real estate, or educational degrees, or number of congregants in our church (that's a pastor one), or items in our collection (books don't count), or simply the almighty buck. We tend to want to impress each other as if life was a competition.

But what if it's okay to simply to bloom boldly, regardless of where we're planted or how that might compare with anyone else? What if it's more than just 'okay?' What if it's imperative? What if us blooming exactly where we are, in exactly our proportion, is exactly what is needed?

Once long ago somewhere at a workshop I can't remember the name of or who it was speaking, else I'd give the credit (again, chime in if you know), I heard this statement.

I paraphrase, from memory.

"Do you.

Because if you don't do you, you won't get done.

And the world needs you.

Because you are the only you the world has."

Today seems like a good day to do me. To do you.
Hope you bloom boldly.