I live in the Chiriquí highlands, a land of eternal spring that bursts with flowers all year long. My yard is full of countless colors and species. There are pinks, yellow, blues, reds, purples, fiery oranges, and blazing whites. There are orchids, daffodils, roses, hibiscus, and many kinds of plants that I can’t identify.
I try to make sure I crawl out of my writing/working cave for a few minutes a day to appreciate the flowers. Not only is it soothing to get away from the glowing screens of my electronics, but I do it for the plant life too. I feel it’s a shame to ignore them as they strain upward to bloom as brightly as they can. I know that all too quickly they will wilt and die. Someone should be there to watch their performance.
On hikes through the cloud forest, I often notice a lone, exotic flower in the mist. It waits there in silence, sparkling with dew, and trembles in the breeze like it’s excited to see me. I think of how easily I might not have been in that spot at that moment to witness it in its pinnacle of existence. What a pity for those countless hidden beauties who go through the trouble of making a such a performance only to be missed!
But I realize that whether I was there or not, the flower would’ve opened in the darkness of the jungle anyway. It would have raised its petals to the moon and folded back into itself again, a marvel never to be seen.
I think of artists like flowers – painters, dancers, singers, and writers. We are designed to bloom and can’t help ourselves from doing so. It doesn’t matter if anyone is there to witness it or appreciate it. It doesn’t matter if it’s practical or not. It’s what we were made to do, and we must do it or we’ll be miserable.
We may get trampled on or devoured by insects. We may be clipped short and put in a vase to be put on a brief display for others and then shrivel before our time. We may be watered and nurtured so that we thrive and mature to our fullest potential, blooming season after season, becoming an attraction for bees and butterflies and hummingbirds.
On the other hand, we may never be noticed or acknowledged by a single soul. We might throw all our energies, passions, and resources into becoming the most spectacular blossom, only to crumple back into the ground without attracting the slightest notice.
The point is this. Don’t write to be seen. Write to become yourself.
No matter what, we must break from the soil, unfurl with determination, and reach for the sun. As flowers bloom, so we must write. We must write. We must write!
So go write!
What are your goals as a writer?
Would you still write if you knew no one would ever read it?
What are you working on right now?
Hear, hear! 😀
Thank you Fay! <3
Your passion is what makes you such great writer. When I took some art classes there were people that just wanted to do a painting to show the world “look what I did”. The paintings were dull, lack luster with absolutely no dept or soul. They happily put what I call “condo art” on their wall and that was it. You can not excel or be great with out that burning passion to create. Just look at how creatively you described the writing process through flowers, that is what sets you and others apart from the real thing and wanna be’s. Creativity must literally burn within you or you will be forever mediocre.
When you are creative and passionate– you must create, with or without anyone else seeing it.
‘Write to become yourself’
Wonderful advice. Thanks for sharing!
The Hedgehog x
I’m glad you liked it, Angela! Happy writing 🙂
This is beautiful. Sometimes I can get to focused on the end results and not appreciate the writing process.
Thank you, Debbie. I’m glad you can relate. I think if the writer doesn’t enjoy writing it, the reader won’t enjoy reading it, so it’s best to keep that end result far from the mind.
Well said. I find this true in all people who have creative juices flowing.
Thanks DJ. I know I get a little melodramatic about these things, but that’s because I’m passionate about it. XO