It's a 'please, don't trample the flowerbed!' continue.
We're taught not to step on flowerbeds since childhood when there's still no distinction between man-made and natural. Why should a flower inside a flowerbed be more important or beautiful than a wild one? Why should a flowerbed, bordered by some pebbles and decorations, have all this significance? No one can explain or motivate it, but anyway: 'Don't trample the flowerbed!'
As you walk through the journey of your life, you encounter flowerbeds, and everyone around you keeps repeating the same tune! And as you continue on this long path of life, the flowerbeds multiply, leaving you with only a meager plot of wild soil. At that point, you'll be so afraid to step on a flowerbed by mistake, so terrified that you'll stand still, without moving, without breathing, because stepping on what is beautiful is not right!The flowerbeds grow with us. The larger we become, the larger they become, yet we don't even notice. As children, we're told, 'always be polite and respectful to those older than you.' But why? On what basis must I ALWAYS be polite and respectful? Why? The answer is: 'because that's how it is, and that's it!' And so, you learn to always say yes because saying yes is being accommodating, and accommodation is courtesy and respect; saying no is considered impolite. How thin is the veil that separates rudeness from respect? No one knows, yet I've stepped on flowerbeds delimited by this thin and invisible veil! No one ever answered me, but everyone felt the freedom to scold me without explaining, perhaps because they, too, couldn't see that subtle veil. 'It's done this way, and that's it.'
So, you continue on your path with more and more flowerbeds and less and less land to tread. If you take 10 steps, rest assured that 8 will be someone else's flowerbeds!So, you become increasingly insecure and hesitant, realizing you haven't understood anything about the world. They tell you that you're intelligent, but you feel like the fool of fools. You wonder what kind of intelligence you could possibly have when you can't even walk like everyone else! In elementary school, you can't correct the teacher or help your classmates because 'you're arrogant and a know-it-all, act like a child, be like the others!' How do I do that? Who teaches me to be a child? How do I be like the others when I am made the way I am? The others are always 'the others'—'be like the others.' But who are the others? How do the others manage to be the others? How do they not be themselves? They seem to be a homogeneous compound rather than a heterogeneous group, so blended that it barely reveals the essence and being of any individual 'others.'Okay, I'll be like the others, I'll put away the microscope and the unsettling flies that I enjoy analyzing up close. I'll crumple up my passion for space, stop playing chess with grandpa, battleship and checkers with grandma, no more fun with equations and algebra. I'll tell them to stop making me do the high school exercises from my uncle's textbooks. I'll be 5 years old like everyone else.
Silence.
Chaos and despair inside your mind.
Silence outside.
You lock the padlock of your essence.
You take the key.
You stick it into your heart.
You forget it.
You move forward.
Follow 'the others.'At school, you perform poorly, nothing interests you, but you don't tread on any flowerbeds because by now, you follow the footsteps of 'the others.' Your parents aren't happy, the teacher isn't happy, you're more alive outside the classroom than inside. But at least when you're outside, you can run down the hallway, jump, and walk, while in class, you get scolded if you talk, make noise, rock on your chair, draw, interrupt the teacher, or use your stress reliever. There are too many flowerbeds. Instead, outside the classroom, when everyone is inside their rooms, there's silence. The corridor is empty; I can be myself; I can be an archaeologist! I can be an astronaut; I can be me! Without anyone scolding me! Without anyone taking away my stress reliever and putting a note in the diary that my disappointed mother will have to sign! I can be a bit more... me. Okay, schools will end, right? And then, as you progress, you mature; I'll find my place, people will accept my essence, and I'll start to see the flowerbeds before stepping on them. No one will shout at me anymore! In reality, the flowerbeds of childhood remain, they change shape, but they stay, and new ones are added: those of adulthood, larger and in different forms. And now? Where should I walk? Right when I had written down the rules and paths to follow?! New flowerbeds?New paths? New forms and new types of boundaries? Where have you put the signs, where are the rules? How do I walk?! Meanwhile, as you stand still on your piece of land, you see others deviating from the path of childhood. Some turn to greet you, some don't even look, some pretend they've never met you. You scream and despair inside; you want a hand, but there's no one to guide you, reassure you. You stay there for a while, then realize it's better to move on. But as soon as you step off your piece of land, you're suddenly struck and violently thrown to the ground. You don't even understand by whom or by what, or why! Only later, until the moment of some suspicion or diagnosis, you'll be struck over and over, sometimes so violently that you'll wish to cease existing in a world that doesn't fit you and only makes you suffer. Meanwhile, keep suppressing your being, be like the other peers; don't talk about strange theories you've created at night because you suffer from insomnia, and at night, you can be a bit more yourself. Pretend! Pretend, and you'll make it sooner or later!
We're taught not to step on flowerbeds since childhood when there's still no distinction between man-made and natural. Why should a flower inside a flowerbed be more important or beautiful than a wild one? Why should a flowerbed, bordered by some pebbles and decorations, have all this significance? No one can explain or motivate it, but anyway: 'Don't trample the flowerbed!'
As you walk through the journey of your life, you encounter flowerbeds, and everyone around you keeps repeating the same tune! And as you continue on this long path of life, the flowerbeds multiply, leaving you with only a meager plot of wild soil. At that point, you'll be so afraid to step on a flowerbed by mistake, so terrified that you'll stand still, without moving, without breathing, because stepping on what is beautiful is not right!The flowerbeds grow with us. The larger we become, the larger they become, yet we don't even notice. As children, we're told, 'always be polite and respectful to those older than you.' But why? On what basis must I ALWAYS be polite and respectful? Why? The answer is: 'because that's how it is, and that's it!' And so, you learn to always say yes because saying yes is being accommodating, and accommodation is courtesy and respect; saying no is considered impolite. How thin is the veil that separates rudeness from respect? No one knows, yet I've stepped on flowerbeds delimited by this thin and invisible veil! No one ever answered me, but everyone felt the freedom to scold me without explaining, perhaps because they, too, couldn't see that subtle veil. 'It's done this way, and that's it.'
So, you continue on your path with more and more flowerbeds and less and less land to tread. If you take 10 steps, rest assured that 8 will be someone else's flowerbeds!So, you become increasingly insecure and hesitant, realizing you haven't understood anything about the world. They tell you that you're intelligent, but you feel like the fool of fools. You wonder what kind of intelligence you could possibly have when you can't even walk like everyone else! In elementary school, you can't correct the teacher or help your classmates because 'you're arrogant and a know-it-all, act like a child, be like the others!' How do I do that? Who teaches me to be a child? How do I be like the others when I am made the way I am? The others are always 'the others'—'be like the others.' But who are the others? How do the others manage to be the others? How do they not be themselves? They seem to be a homogeneous compound rather than a heterogeneous group, so blended that it barely reveals the essence and being of any individual 'others.'Okay, I'll be like the others, I'll put away the microscope and the unsettling flies that I enjoy analyzing up close. I'll crumple up my passion for space, stop playing chess with grandpa, battleship and checkers with grandma, no more fun with equations and algebra. I'll tell them to stop making me do the high school exercises from my uncle's textbooks. I'll be 5 years old like everyone else.
Silence.
Chaos and despair inside your mind.
Silence outside.
You lock the padlock of your essence.
You take the key.
You stick it into your heart.
You forget it.
You move forward.
Follow 'the others.'At school, you perform poorly, nothing interests you, but you don't tread on any flowerbeds because by now, you follow the footsteps of 'the others.' Your parents aren't happy, the teacher isn't happy, you're more alive outside the classroom than inside. But at least when you're outside, you can run down the hallway, jump, and walk, while in class, you get scolded if you talk, make noise, rock on your chair, draw, interrupt the teacher, or use your stress reliever. There are too many flowerbeds. Instead, outside the classroom, when everyone is inside their rooms, there's silence. The corridor is empty; I can be myself; I can be an archaeologist! I can be an astronaut; I can be me! Without anyone scolding me! Without anyone taking away my stress reliever and putting a note in the diary that my disappointed mother will have to sign! I can be a bit more... me. Okay, schools will end, right? And then, as you progress, you mature; I'll find my place, people will accept my essence, and I'll start to see the flowerbeds before stepping on them. No one will shout at me anymore! In reality, the flowerbeds of childhood remain, they change shape, but they stay, and new ones are added: those of adulthood, larger and in different forms. And now? Where should I walk? Right when I had written down the rules and paths to follow?! New flowerbeds?New paths? New forms and new types of boundaries? Where have you put the signs, where are the rules? How do I walk?! Meanwhile, as you stand still on your piece of land, you see others deviating from the path of childhood. Some turn to greet you, some don't even look, some pretend they've never met you. You scream and despair inside; you want a hand, but there's no one to guide you, reassure you. You stay there for a while, then realize it's better to move on. But as soon as you step off your piece of land, you're suddenly struck and violently thrown to the ground. You don't even understand by whom or by what, or why! Only later, until the moment of some suspicion or diagnosis, you'll be struck over and over, sometimes so violently that you'll wish to cease existing in a world that doesn't fit you and only makes you suffer. Meanwhile, keep suppressing your being, be like the other peers; don't talk about strange theories you've created at night because you suffer from insomnia, and at night, you can be a bit more yourself. Pretend! Pretend, and you'll make it sooner or later!
