Dare to wither.
We shouldn’t be afraid to reach our full potential in life and blossom. Yet we do. Are we so scared of decay and rot and to be forgotten?
Seems that way.
We must not fight what and whom we were born to be.
Why do I have to pick the one tree that I love, over all the other ones, that is only with us briefly?
A blossom tree
I wanted to get married under one. There is something so ethereal about them when I see them at the height of their beauty.
The moment they seem most exquisite is when they are closer to death than life.
I see the beauty in death.
I see the beauty in life.
I researched what the Blossom tree has been used for as a symbol.
In Japan, in world war 2,
It became the symbol of patriotism to the Japanese people.
They too see how fleeting life is. All the more to live it with great deep breaths and with as much gusto and energy as one can.
What does piss me off is the propaganda the government spread around beliefs of the blossom tree.
As poetic as it sounds: It is said that people were encouraged to believe that when the souls of warriors died, they came back as blossom flowers.
A lovely notion but this is on a par with Roman rhetoric. It is a manipulation and I hate seeing the words – Nature and manipulation standing together.
But can the two exist without the other?
I think, let flowers live and be what they are.
Let us humans live and be what we are.
Humans with a heightened awareness of the fragility of life,
are the ones that put the humane inhumaneness.
We don’t need to be any other but ourselves to stand out and be beautiful.
Look how magnificent we look when we coexist with nature.
Appreciate what we have today.
Our beauty in all its manifestations from the second we shine never leaves us -not even in physical death.
It does transform.
Transformation is not a bad thing.
Revel in each one.
Always closer to death but rocking the Wabi-Sabi philosophy.
“Wabi-sabi reminds us that we are all transient beings on this planet—that our bodies, as well as the material world around us, are in the process of returning to dust.
Nature’s cycles of growth, decay, and erosion are embodied in frayed edges, rust, liver spots. Through wabi-sabi, we learn to embrace both the glory and the melancholy found in these marks of passing time.”
Beautiful because I am withered.