doesn't mean you're alive.
every day i pass these yellow tulips on 59th & Park on my way to and from work.
they're in the middle of an intersection, and today i got caught inbetween the green traffic lights on both sides of this tulip island, signaling cars to pass in opposite directions.
it's funny because this very moment in the middle of the street is one of my favorites; for a second the world gets smaller, and there's something so peaceful about staying still while everything moves around you. i guess one could say that it's a bit ironic to feel this way in such a city, but i love it.
stranded on the island, i took a better look at these tulips and this is what i saw:
a little bud, hidden underneath the covers.
suddenly the bigger tulips seemed almost tacky in comparison, with their louder petals, their floppy shape.
the little one became more interesting, had more depth, and there was something special about it.
lately i've been discouraged by our society -- in this generation consumed by social media, encouragement of everything publicized, instant gratification, instant EVERYTHING, sometimes i feel that we lessen the significance of moments and events that are meant to be more than just surface level good. we've become books wide open, less intimate, less sacred.
i don't deny the good that can come from staying plugged in, but today was a reminder that doing so for too long with too much leads to nothing unique. in a world full of loud buds, i want to keep moments worth keeping to myself, share with those worth sharing with, and keep my distance from the rest of the noise.
"To live is the rarest thing in the world.
most people exist, that's all."
there's nothing to be gained from being like everyone else.
because when the wind blows, your petals will fall out, like everyone else.
xxmon
