A new story…
Sometimes I wonder if a long time ago, humans were ok with seeing themselves as visitors passing through.
Like flowers that open up in spring and willingly share the best of themselves while soaking up all the world has to offer and somehow finding peace in this interchange.
A reverent sort of ‘it is what it is,’ knowing that our ingredients will be the nutrients that feed the next season.
I wonder if humans realized that our visiting here was not to serve only ourselves, but to serve a vital larger purpose—to absorb the parts of the world we spawned into, transmute what we absorbed through our unique vantage point, and then upload the beauty of our blossoming into the hearts of our loved ones.
Maybe a long time ago, we took this as our career—this sharing our growth with everyone we loved.
Sure we planted our seeds to grow the physical parts of ourselves, but what if the purpose of these physical selves was more a container for these other things: for planting the seeds of love and wisdom in each other’s hearts through our stories, so that they can live on in the future generations.
Maybe once upon a time we were comfortable as continuations.
But maybe once upon a time, someone fell too in love with their blossoms.
Maybe they had a nice long look at their growth and decided not to give it away. Maybe they decided to keep it instead. Cherish it. And even flaunt it.
Maybe they took their neighbor’s attention off of watering their own seeds and said, “Excuse me for interrupting, but have you ever seen anything so magnificent in all your life?”
And the person lifted up their eyes and said, “Oh wow! You are right! Never ever have I! How did you blossom so magnificently?”
And the man said, “I get it. You want to blossom like this too, don’t you.”
“Why yes! Of course I do! How can I…?”
“Well, I will tell you what. If you water my blossoms with your attention, I will give you a share of my blossoms in exchange.”
“Oh, wow!”
So that’s what happened.
The person focused his attention on his neighbor’s extraordinary blossoms, and in exchange, he was given a share of his neighbor’s blossoms which he then flaunted in the vase they came with.
And the following day, he interrupted his neighbor on the other side, who was busy watering her own seeds, to show her what she didn’t have.
“Excuse me for interrupting,” he said. “But I thought you might like to see my extraordinary blossoms!” And the other neighbor looked at the blossoms he was holding and she said, “Lordy! Where did you get these blossoms!?”
And he pointed to his neighbor on the other side. “If you give him some of your attention, he may also give you some of his extras in exchange.”
Before long, every neighbor in the neighborhood had shifted their attention to the man’s magnificent blossoms, which were growing even more magnificent due to all the attention they were receiving.
But every neighbor in the neighborhood also seemed to be avoiding the fact that these new magnificent blossoms had not been cultivated within themselves, and that they were all neglecting their own blossoms that were.
Instead of focusing on their own experience of being in the world and sharing their unique understanding of it, they were now spending all their energy focusing on getting what they didn’t believe they already had in abundance.
And slowly, they stopped understanding the world through their own experiences and began to only understand the world through this man’s experience instead.
But the blossoms were so lovely, and they loved the new attention they were receiving from their neighbors, and by the time they got home from a long day of work, they were too tired to think about it anyhow.
But in time, there was a problem: Their own blossoms within were beginning to wilt. And then an even bigger problem began: The blossoms they received from the man were also beginning to wilt.
The man was so upset, he marched right over to his neighbor’s house and knocked on the door.
“Oh hello, how can I help you, neighbor?”
“We are growing so tired giving all of our energy to your blossoms. It’s upsetting enough that my own blossoms are dying inside, but now, even the blossoms you’ve given me are wilting!”
“Well not to worry.”
“What do you mean not to worry!?”
“I will tell you what,” the man said. “If you continue watering my blossoms with your attention, I will give you this bed to rest in after you’re done. This bed is so beautiful and comfortable, you won’t even care if the blossoms live or die.”
And he was correct. The man and his family loved their new beds. In fact he was so proud of his new bed, he decided to interrupt his neighbor on the other side to flaunt how well-rested he was.
His neighbor‘s cheeks immediately flushed with jealousy. “Where are the bags underneath your eyes? You look so bushy-tailed! What is going on?!”
“I’ve got a new bed. Would you like to try it out?”
“What do you mean a new bed?!”
So the man showed this other neighbor inside and she sat on the edge of the comfortable bed and immediately became angry. “But… how did you get this bed? When I sleep on a fucking rock?!”
Before that moment, the neighbor never minded sleeping on a rock. The neighbor would close her eyes and water the seeds of what was meaningful to her in the world until blossoms within her grew with such profound beauty it brought her to tears.
But that night in her rock hard bed, all she could think about was how her neighbor was probably so much happier. And so she knocked on the door of the man with the beds.
“The blossoms you gave me are also wilting. I would like a bed too. What do I need to do?”
“Hmmm. Well, I suppose if you work a little harder, and water more of my blossoms, I could exchange your extra attention for this lovely bed to rest in afterwards.”
And so it was settled.
And within a very short time, the entire neighborhood had lined up outside the man’s door for a bed of their own.
“Yes,” the man chuckled, feeling so lucky to see his influence growing. “Of course I will give you a bed. And if you work harder still, I’ll throw in this stove!”
Nearly every villager in the neighborhood began working for the man, which meant nearly ever villager began neglecting their own ingredients, their own seeds, their unique way of processing their own experiences in the world and transforming it into the wisdom and poetry that would one day be uploaded into the hearts of their loved ones.
Instead, there was only exhaustion from trying to keep the man’s blossoms alive in exchange for all these new ways of finding comfort that kept their minds off the misery caused by the emptiness that was growing inside them.
At night, when their children cried, instead of telling the stories that had always filled their hearts generation after generation, they now taught their kids how important it was to work hard, and how beautiful their futures would be if they never gave up. Futures filled with beds and stoves and fancy cars to drive back and forth to their jobs in comfort. Futures that other, more regular people could only wish they had.
“But I want to hear the stories you used to tell!“ the children cried.
“Oh my precious child. I will have to tell you more of those stories later. I’m just too tired from watering the man’s seeds all day.”
“But those seeds aren’t even beautiful,” the children cried. “I miss those beautiful flowers you used to grow. I miss how you used to give them to me. How I used to love them so! Now you have no time. So I have nothing!”
“Well if I stop working, then we won’t be able to afford all these beautiful things we have!”
“I don’t care! I hate them all! And I hate you!”
The man had never seen his children so upset, so he made an appointment to speak with his boss.
“My children are empty inside,” he said. “I’ve come to give your blossoms back. I’m going to go back to the way things used to be. I’m going to nurture my own blossoms again. So that I can share them with my family.”
“Very well. I will come collect your beds and your stove and your state-of-the-art refrigerator and… your easy chair.”
“No. No, please. Not the chair.”
“I’m sorry. But we had an arrangement.”
“But… my family is in pain! My wife feels empty inside, my children feel empty! They have no blossoms in their hearts. No one’s growing! Everyone is miserable!”
“Hmmm… I believe I know what your problem is.”
“What?”
“You need to teach your children better.”
“What? Teach them what?”
“I will tell you what. I will build a school that will teach them how to properly take care of my seeds and my blossoms.”
“Your seeds and blossoms?”
“Why not? They just need to stay busy. Who cares whose seeds they are? It’s not the way of the new world to let them just sit around all day thinking about the way things used to be. They need purpose! They need to share in the labor of watering seeds! It’s called… progress!
Otherwise, when they’re older, weeds will sprout and grow over all the hard work we’ve done. And we will lose everything! Oh, they will be so proud to be a contribution to our community! And get this—the child who does the best work will inherit my entire garden!”
“Really?” This sounded impressive to the man. “I bet my child has what it takes to be the best!”
“Why not? Let’s find out!”
So the man went home and excitedly told the children the good news. And the kids and his wife were pissed. “I can’t believe you let that jerk brainwash you!”
“Now now, have some respect,” the dad said. “If it wasn’t for that jerk, we would all still be out on the plains eating raw meat and digging roots!”
So the kids started going to the man’s school.
And they did as they were told.
And time marched on.
Generations passed, and the neighborhoods, schools and workplaces were now filled with these people’s children’s children’s children.
But sadly, nearly every one of them walked around with a feeling of emptiness.
Sometimes it was a deep emptiness within them, but sometimes, it felt as if somehow, the emptiness filled their entire being. But the even weirder thing was, they weren’t even sure what they were missing.
It had been so many hundreds of years since the days of uploading each other’s natural blossoms into each other’s hearts, that no one even knew that such things existed.
No one had any idea of what it was like way back when, when a person’s purpose was simply to experience life and process it through one’s unique vantage point and then share what was discovered through profound and beautiful stories which were then uploaded into each other’s hearts.
They may not have had fancy beds or fancy cars back then, or fancy stores to buy so many more fancy things, but they were filled by the moments they were in. And they were filled with the kind of pride that comes when one’s labor yields the actual fruits they then fed themselves with.
Now, these people walked around working all day, but for what, they weren’t sure. Feeling so empty, as if severed from some former reality, and no one had any idea what to do about it.
The only time their emptiness made sense was when one of their loved ones passed. But still, even though they missed their loved ones, the missing was somehow even bigger than that.
It was as if they knew somewhere in their hearts, that they hadn’t quite had the time or opportunity to be given what their loved ones had wanted so badly to plant in their hearts, but could never find the right time or place to do so. And the loneliness was almost too much to bear.
Then one day, one of the children in the neighborhood grew so depressed that she refused to move. “My heart,“ she kept crying. “My heart hurts. It feels so empty.”
Her poor parents didn’t know what to do. They hugged her and they kissed her and they bought her all the shiniest most expensive toys and gadgets that money could buy, but she still wouldn’t stop crying.
Days went on and still no end.
So finally, they took her to the fancy hospital around the corner, were experts worked around the clock helping all the neighborhood grown-ups and children loosen all the pain they were having.
And the mom explained to the doctor, “She won’t leave her room. All she does is rock back and forth and cry that her heart is empty. She refuses go to school. She refuses to talk about it. But I can’t just stay home with her anymore. I have to work!”
“Well,” the doctor said, examining the X-rays. “There’s nothing wrong with her heart. I think she’s good to go back to school. I’m sure in a couple days she’ll be good as new!”
But her mom didn’t feel right sending her daughter back to school in such a state. So she asked her mother, the girl’s grandma, to come stay with her during the day.
The girl was so excited. She hardly ever got to spend time with her grandma bc she was usually so busy at school and with sports.
And her grandmother was also delighted! After all, she spent way too much time alone and had grown so many beautiful flowers in her heart that she wanted to share, but no one ever seemed to have any time to receive them.
So the following day, after her mom went to work, the grandmother invited her granddaughter to sit next to her on the couch.
“I have something to share with you,” she said. “Something that might fill your heart.”
“You do?”
“Did you know that a long time ago, the purpose of life was just to spend time like this? Sure we had hard work to do, but it was all in the name of filling our stomachs and having a warm place so that we could share with each other—the ideas we had, and the feelings and thoughts that we had.”
“Really?”
“That’s right.”
“Well, what happened?”
“Well,” the grandmother began. “I’ll tell you the story the way it was told to me…”
And for the rest of the day, the girl’s grandmother filled up her heart with story after story. About the man who stopped watering his blossoms to flaunt them to his neighbor, how everyone was so mesmerized by something they didn’t think they had, that they forgot to water their own seeds. Until everyone forgot they even had seeds. And they forgot about the treasure that was their hearts and instead focused on working hard enough to earn these other kinds of treasures, that were nice, but were certainly no replacement for the treasures that they used to share, and how everybody grew so very empty and so very lonely.
“That is so sad, grandma,” the girl cried. “I wish my heart wasn’t so empty.”
“But really, it’s not empty, my sweet girl. All those seeds are still in there, just waiting for you to water them with your time and attention. All the stories that have ever been told still travel through your blood. You have the seeds of every mother and father who came before you. And if you listen deeply, their stories will blossom and your heart will feel full.”
“You know what, grandma, it already feels full from these stories you’ve shared with me!”
“That’s right.”
“I don’t want you to ever die, grandma,” the girl said, giving her grandmother a giant hug. “You’re my favorite person.”
“I understand, my dear. But the purpose of life is not to be here forever. We are here to blossom and gift our blossoms to our loved ones. Who we are exists in these blossoms, in all these best things we have to offer. And in this way, I will always be part of you, right here in your heart.
One day, yes, my body will pass. And at my funeral, you’ll see, people will bring me flowers. But what they won’t understand is that what I really wanted, was to give them mine. My flowers are the blossoming of my time here, my flowers are meant to be planted in the hearts of my loved ones, so that my blossoming can nourish the seeds you’re now planting in your own heart.”
After the time spent with her grandmother, the girl began to heal. And the girl began to listen to her heart and share the growth she was experiencing, which began to fill other people’s hearts too.
And then one day, her grandmother passed.
And just like she said, everyone brought flowers to the funeral. Her grandmother was right. They still didn’t quite understand the purpose of being alive that they’d forgotten. And the girl held her heart, and cherished the flowers her grandmother gave her. And she heard her grandmother’s voice. And the girl smiled bc she knew her heart was not empty.
So many people are empty inside and starving. We think our lives are supposed to have some grandiose purpose that we must accomplish for ourselves before we pass. And with that as our goal, of course we’re terrified of death. We think if we don’t accomplish our grandiose purpose, our lives will have been in vain. But to me, that’s only bc we stopped seeing ourselves as continuations. We forgot that our purpose here is not only for ourselves. That our purpose here is to experience all that life has to offer and to then pass on the gifts of understanding and beauty that we’ve grown in our hearts.
We have to stop comparing our blossoms and start filling each other up again with the stuff that got us here in the first place—time together, stories, wisdom, humor—instead of rushing to get somewhere better.
We can be gardeners again, and teach our children to be gardeners. Sharing the stories of our experiences here and sharing the experiences of those who were here before us. We can expand our hearts and then water as many parts of the earth that we can before we continue on…
-JLK
