Author: Unknown
The park bench was deserted as I sat down to read beneath the long, straggly branches of an old tree. Disillusioned by life with good reason to frown, for the world was intent on dragging me down. If that weren't enough to ruin my day, a young boy out of breath approached me, all tired from play.
He stood right before me with his head tilted down and said with great excitement, "Look what I found!" In his hand was a flower, and what a pitiful sight, with its petals all worn - not enough rain, or too little light. Wanting him to take his dead flower and go off to play, I faked a small smile and then shifted away. But instead of retreating he sat next to my side and placed the flower to his nose and declared with overacted surprise, "It sure smells pretty and it's beautiful, too. That's why I picked it; here, it's for you." The weed before me was dying or dead. Not vibrant of colors: orange, yellow or red. But I knew I must take it, or he might never leave.
So I reached for the flower, and replied, "Just what I need." But instead of him placing the flower in my hand, he held it mid-air without reason. It was then that I noticed for the very first time that weed-toting boy could not see: he was blind.
I heard my voice quiver; tears shone in the sun as I thanked him for picking the very best one. "You're welcome," he smiled, and then ran off to play; unaware of the impact he'd had on my day. I sat there and wondered how did he know of my self-indulged plight? Perhaps from his heart, he'd been blessed with true sight. Through the eyes of a blind child, at last I could see the problem was not with the world; the problem was me. And for all of those times I myself had been blind, I vowed to see the beauty in life, and appreciate every second that's mine. And then I held that wilted flower up to my nose and breathed in the fragrance of a beautiful rose and smiled as I watched that young boy, another weed in his hand, about to change the life of an unsuspecting old man.
The park bench was deserted as I sat down to read beneath the long, straggly branches of an old tree. Disillusioned by life with good reason to frown, for the world was intent on dragging me down. If that weren't enough to ruin my day, a young boy out of breath approached me, all tired from play.
He stood right before me with his head tilted down and said with great excitement, "Look what I found!" In his hand was a flower, and what a pitiful sight, with its petals all worn - not enough rain, or too little light. Wanting him to take his dead flower and go off to play, I faked a small smile and then shifted away. But instead of retreating he sat next to my side and placed the flower to his nose and declared with overacted surprise, "It sure smells pretty and it's beautiful, too. That's why I picked it; here, it's for you." The weed before me was dying or dead. Not vibrant of colors: orange, yellow or red. But I knew I must take it, or he might never leave.
So I reached for the flower, and replied, "Just what I need." But instead of him placing the flower in my hand, he held it mid-air without reason. It was then that I noticed for the very first time that weed-toting boy could not see: he was blind.
I heard my voice quiver; tears shone in the sun as I thanked him for picking the very best one. "You're welcome," he smiled, and then ran off to play; unaware of the impact he'd had on my day. I sat there and wondered how did he know of my self-indulged plight? Perhaps from his heart, he'd been blessed with true sight. Through the eyes of a blind child, at last I could see the problem was not with the world; the problem was me. And for all of those times I myself had been blind, I vowed to see the beauty in life, and appreciate every second that's mine. And then I held that wilted flower up to my nose and breathed in the fragrance of a beautiful rose and smiled as I watched that young boy, another weed in his hand, about to change the life of an unsuspecting old man.
I will simply say: "Just what I need" but not with the tone of the person from your story.
ReplyDeleteWe're so often caught by our depressions, our self-pity, our feelings of failures or loneliness that we miss the real beauty of life and also the real important issues. We tend to dramatize and get used to feeling low, "enjoying" our negativity, nourishing our depression with pessimism, with our dissatisfactions...tures and common things we take for granted? Why only in these moments we find the way back to our
Why can't we see that there are people who have real problems, that there are others less fortunate than us who feel blessed and happy with small gesinner self and find comfort? Why only when we see life can be even more harsh, or when we realize we forgot how to be happy with small things, that we start seeing the other side of the coin and look at our life from a different perspective? Aren't we selfish and shallow?
Many would say,it is easy to preach than practice, even I would agree with them.
ReplyDeleteBut there is no harm in trying to LIVE THE PRESENT, as there is nothing to loose !
So try -try and even if you achieve a little, you would feel it was worth trying !
Such a heart touching and thought provoking tale.Life is very beautiful and every human being should live it to the fullest leaving all sorrows to the wind.In fact, most of us spend time in worrying about unknown fears which does no good to oneself except leading to depression.We have to change the perspective of life.It is in our hands to make our life beautiful or pathetic.
ReplyDeleteA very good post.