Choose Beauty
In a world full of fake stuff, take the risky but rewarding path
Before we get going — quick announcement about my free webinar.
This week’s session is called: Double Your Writing Impact Without Posting Twice as Much
(No, it’s not about simply “marketing more”)
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Now, on with the show
Recently, my wife has flooded our home with tulips. Red tulips. Yellow tulips. Yellow tulips with red in the middle.
Purple tulips.
Visit any room in our house, and you’ll find them exploding from a ceramic vase like an odd botanical fireworks show.
This didn’t affect me much. Until last Thursday.
While trimming the odd grey hair away from my mustache, I noticed the tulip vase next to me (yes, they’re in the bathroom too) held six short buds that were quickly decaying. Crusty petals instead of luscious leaves.
And I thought: “I wish flowers never died.”
The thought alone represented how far I’ve come in my relationship to flowers. Previously, I took the masculine view. “They’re just going to die. Why spend the money?” Now I’m here, watching pink petals hit the tile floor, wishing the color would stay just a little longer.
Funny what a few hellish months will do to you.
Flowers that don’t die already exist, of course. They are sterile, plastic things. My former office was filled with them. Monday through Friday, I walked past six lifeless ferns leering at me from waist-high containers. I haven’t thought of them for 6 years. Fake flowers are practical and empty. They don’t catch memories like their organic counterparts.
It’s much simpler to choose fake, in all areas of life.
Endless libraries of media have been made available to us, but I’m not convinced this availability results in a higher amount of beautiful things. What we do have more of is factory-pressed noise, predictable and profitable and safe. Always waiting on Netflix when you want to numb the terror of life.
Choosing real things is risky. Real things wither and die. Then you have to replace them. Each time. You have to choose a thing that will die.
You have to plant the seeds, water them, watch them grow, protect them from deer and bugs and others that would seek to maim or warp the purpose of the beauty. Then you pluck it, trim it, position it, and show it. And then it dies.
And then, you have to choose beauty again.
You have to ask, daily:
Am I willing to suffer fake flowers, or do I want the real thing?
Much love as always,
-Todd B from Tennessee